


Like a Moth to the Flame

by Hemera7437



Series: Like a Moth to the Flame - GOBB 2019 [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Beauty and the Beast Elements, Books, But He Gets Better, Crowley stays of his own free will, Fluff and Angst, Good Omens Big Bang, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pining, Shapeshifting, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Temporary Character Death, a bit of violence, beast!Aziraphale, beauty!Crowley, but nothing too graphic, so many books, with a capital P
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hemera7437/pseuds/Hemera7437
Summary: Running from his former pack, shapeshifter Crowley comes upon an abandoned castle in the woods, that resembles more a library than a residence, and finds himself enamored by its mysterious occupant.Aka: The beauty and the beast AU no one asked for, but I wrote anyways.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Like a Moth to the Flame - GOBB 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614745
Comments: 477
Kudos: 613
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Good Omens Big Bang!  
> The art is by [AuraSR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aura0190/pseuds/happinessfordeeppeople) ([tumblr](https://happinessfordeeppeople.tumblr.com/)) and [spickerzocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spickerzocker/pseuds/spickerzocker) ([tumblr](https://spickerzocker.tumblr.com/)), my great artists, it will be linked with later chapters!
> 
> A huge thanks to the GO BB discord and all the lovely people in it!  
> Especially to my wonderful writing crew and cheerleading team:  
> my beta [Pearl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl09), my story coach [Wy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyvernQuill) and [Lur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur) and [Edna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV)!  
> Without you, I would never have gotten this far! Thank you so much for all your help! <3
> 
> Now, without further ado, enjoy!

The wind howled through the trees and Crowley could do little more than pull the scarf around his face tighter. The cold still cut through it, regardless of all his efforts, stinging in his cheeks, and making his eyes water.

Realistically, he knew that there were no icicles on his eyelashes, but it sure as _hell_ felt that way.

Sometimes, it really sucked to be cold-blooded.

The only reason why he hadn’t gone into shock hibernation yet was because technically he wasn’t a “full snake”. It still wasn’t enough.

What had he been thinking?

He knew exactly what the cold did to him on good days. But no, he had to go and pick a fight with Hastur and Ligur in the midst of winter, _during a snowstorm._

No self-respecting snake would be caught dead in this kind of weather!

Sadly for Crowley, often jokingly called the “Serpent of Eden” apparently wasn’t a self-respecting snake, or he would have thought things through before being rash. He just needed shelter from the storm, preferably somewhere where Hastur wouldn’t find him. 

He wasn’t coming after him per se, or, better put, _not yet_ ; after all, he was as cold-blooded as Crowley was, what with his other form being a frog. But Crowley still wanted to find a place where he could escape Hastur’s notice. It was why he ran after all.

He didn’t know how long he had until Hastur came after him, but he needed to use that time wisely, even if that meant going out into a snowstorm.

He had already wrapped himself up in three layers of clothes, two hats, a pair of gloves underneath his mittens and a wool scarf wrapped around his face. Despite all that the cold still managed to get into his bones. His movements were sluggish and every step, every _breath_ , was physically painful. 

Because of the storm, the snow was falling fast and combined with the strong headwind, he felt like he wasn’t moving from the spot.

But Crowley still didn’t dare bring out his _second_ form’s wings to get forward momentum for fear of having skin or feathers exposed to the cold. So he just trudged on at a pace that could have rivaled a snail.

He was a powerful shifter for Go-, Sa-, _somebody’s sake._ He shouldn’t be getting defeated by some frozen water falling from the sky!

He really should have waited out this storm. Or at the very least, he should have waited for morning, instead of bailing in the dead of night.

At least it couldn’t get any worse.

And then, as if on cue, he heard howling. He really should have known he would jinx it.

Even in his snake form, Crowley was no match for a pack of wolves and with the blinding cold all around, an attempt at a fight would only get him killed.

No, his only option was to find somewhere to hide, _now._

He quickened his steps. He couldn’t call it running; it was far too slow for that. In fact, it felt like in his nightmares, where he was running from some unknown danger but wasn’t moving from the spot, no matter how much he ran.

Crowley turned his head to look for the wolves, but he didn’t spot any, it was too dark for that.

Instead, his foot caught on a tree root and he stumbled. He lost his footing in the slippery snow and pummeled down a slope, rolling to the foot of a hill and getting snow in his face and under his clothes, where it quickly melted and ran down his back in icy rivulets that did nothing to increase his speed or improve his mood.

But the howls sounded much closer now, so Crowley didn’t waste a second before he stumbled to his feet and continued to run. In his haste he didn’t even realize how the ground underneath the snow was no longer the beaten path of a forest but cobblestone. And because he had turned his head again, to judge the distance of the wolves, he did not see the iron gate coming until he ran straight into it.

He spent a few moments on his back in the snow before the howls broke him out of his stupor. He had a blinding headache when he came to his feet and his sunglasses were cracked from the impact with the gate.

The gate appeared to be locked, but that had never stopped Crowley before.

He obviously had no time for lockpicking so he tried climbing the iron bars nevermind the fact that with gloves _and_ mittens on, that was a futile attempt.

In the rush of adrenaline and his panic, he had totally forgotten about his raven form’s wings. Since he now had much more pressing concerns than having bare skin exposed to the cold, he immediately concentrated on shifting partially. He needed to get over the big gate fast and for that, he would need bigger wings than his full raven form allowed.

He spotted the wolves as he unfurled his wings and they were upon him a second later. With one powerful flap of human-sized wings he managed to lift himself high above their reach. And not a moment too soon. 

He looked down at them, as they were snarling and snapping after his heels. He had only barely dodged that bullet.

Unfortunately, it looked like luck wasn’t with him that night because with a gust of wind the cold caught up with him. His wings stiffened up and in reflex they disappeared, leaving Crowley to plummet towards the ground again.

The sharp pain of his impact knocked all the breath out of his body. At least his wings were curled up and safe, otherwise he would have definitely broken something.

As it was, another instinct kicked in and Crowley’s body transformed into his snake form as it always did when he stressed himself out enough.

He transformed into a snake, in the snow. A snake without three layers of clothing or any other sort of protection against the cold.

He had half a mind to slither away from the gate, where the wolves were still snarling to break through. But he didn’t get very far. As a snake he almost immediately froze up, curled together in a tight roll to preserve the last shreds of warmth that were quickly fleeing his body.

Then, Crowley fell unconscious.

\---

When Crowley came to, several facts surprised him.

First, he had not expected to come to again.

Second, he was no longer outside, but in a room, an utterly unfamiliar room.

Third, it was warm.

He had apparently shifted back sometime during his unconsciousness, because he was human-shaped again and was back in his clothes as usual. But he had also lost some of his layers somehow. When he sat up, a blanket slipped off his shoulders and revealed that the only thing he was still wearing was his black undershirt and pants.

He spotted the rest of his clothes soon enough though, as they were hanging in front of a fireplace just a few feet away. 

Obviously, somebody had picked Crowley up and brought him inside. He had flown over a gate after all, it made sense that there was someone living behind it.

The fire was lit and emitted a pleasant heat and smell. It was so comfortable to be out of the cold that Crowley almost slipped into sleep again, but instead he forced himself to sit up more and look around the room.

Crowley had been lying on a couch in front of said fireplace. The room he was in was large but very dimly lit so that Crowley couldn’t see everything clearly.

But the size wasn’t the most astonishing thing about the room - it was the books.

The room was bursting full with books. There were shelves lined up on all four walls reaching all the way up to the fairly high ceiling. Crowley even spotted multiple ladders that were undoubtedly there to get to the very tops of the shelves.

The books inside the shelves were stacked in two or three rows. Sometimes they stood vertical like in normal bookshelves, sometimes they were lined up horizontally, as if someone played a huge game of puzzle to stack the books as densely in the shelves as possible.

But evidently, that had still not been enough because the whole floor was lined with towers of books, piled so high that even Crowley would have to be on tiptoes to get to the top books.

All in all, the room was bursting full, so much so, that the piles of books and shelves more closely resembled a labyrinth instead of a room. One would have to meander their way around the book in very precise patterns to go anywhere without getting lost.

The smell of old books was overwhelming, and now that Crowley paid more attention to it, most of the tomes looked dated, almost on the brink of turning into dust. Crowley could even hear the bristling of old, brittle pages in an unperceived breeze of air.

Behind him, the fireplace cracked, he turned back to the flames and watched as sparks danced in the air.

Suddenly he could only think about how much of a fire hazard the place was and that it was only foolish recklessness that someone made an open fire in the middle of this place.

But Crowley didn’t spot his mystery rescuer.

In fact, despite the burning fire and the fact that someone had peeled him out of his cold, wet clothes, the room seemed empty. Now that he looked closely, he could even see the layers of dust upon the books and on the floor.

But the dust on the floor didn’t seem like it had been disturbed at all. There were not even traces of footsteps and Crowley couldn’t explain to himself, how his mysterious saviour had carried him unto the couch in the middle of the room without even touching the dusty floor.

More and more, the place started to look haunted. Despite the warm and welcoming fireplace, Crowley was inclined to call the place spooky. Luckily for him, he was a big fan of spooky.

But he also was no idiot and didn’t ask if anyone was there. That was the worst someone could do in a situation like this, alone in what seems to be a haunted library.

Instead he carefully laid back down, pulled the blanket up and pretended to go back to sleep.

He didn’t have to wait all that long until he heard something.

It sounded an awful lot like the rustling of book pages, only much, much softer. Maybe like cloth being pulled across a surface. Like someone had on a very long coat and it was dragging behind them in the dirt.

Interestingly enough, Crowley couldn’t perceive any footsteps. Only the quiet, soft rustling.

Now that he thought about it.

It sounded like _wings._ The soft rustling could be feathers moving with each quiet beat of the wings. And it would explain the lack of footsteps or how the dusty floor seemed like it hadn’t been walked on in centuries.

Crowley couldn’t contain himself anymore.

Slowly, carefully he sat up again. Only so much that he could peer over the back of the sofa. He tried his very best to avoid making any sound as he let his gaze sweep across the room.

A quiet thud alerted him to the presence of the other. His head sharply turned into the direction and Crowley was very grateful that his joints didn’t crack with the sudden movement.

But he must have made a sound. Because the only thing he saw was a single, small cloud of dust whirling up from the place where the mysterious person had set their book down. Then he spotted something else, something like coattails, disappearing around a corner.

Crowley strained his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything else. His host had made a run for it.

He let his hand run through his currently short hair and it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses anymore.

He looked around but couldn’t see them anywhere. Had he lost them in the woods?

He stood up, carefully drew the blanket around his shoulders and tiptoed over to his clothes. In his jacket’s pocket he found one of the spare sunglasses he always kept on him.

When he slipped them over his eyes, he felt a bit of tension ease off his shoulders. He always felt safer with his sunglasses firmly in front of his snake eyes, the most striking of his traits that always stayed snake even when he changed to his human form.

His clothes weren’t exactly dry yet, so Crowley stayed wrapped in the blanket as he walked around the room. He was careful to avoid knocking over any books and kept his eyes peeled for any figures disappearing around corners, but his host remained out of sight.

Crowley wasn’t even sure whether the person was still in the same room.

The room was much larger than Crowley had estimated it to be. In fact, he was walking for quite a while until he got a sort of grasp of the layout, although it might have taken him so long because he might have been walking in circles around the same stacks of books.

In the far back of the room he had found a floor to ceiling window, which had been concealed by the equally large bookshelves all around it.

Crowley pulled the blanket tighter around himself, even if it didn’t seem like the cold wind could get through the glass.

Outside he could see the woods from where he’d come from. It was still snowing rather heavily, so much so that it was difficult to spot much of anything.

Still, not even the snowstorm could hide the fact that Crowley was in what appeared to be at least the second floor of a castle.

A castle that Crowley hadn’t seen before, when he had been running from the wolves.

If Crowley’s curiosity hadn’t been piqued before, now it was thoroughly awakened.

This whole place seemed to be shrouded in mystery and Crowley wanted to unravel the secrets floating around.

He had called this place spooky before… maybe it was a haunted castle and the owner was a ghost? Maybe that’s why they didn’t show themselves to Crowley?

Well, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the snake.

He would find out what was going on in this castle, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere else until at least the snowstorm had let up.

So, with that decision in mind, Crowley returned back to the couch and the warm fire.

He would need a plan.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley explores the castle and... meets his host?

In the end, after Crowley had taken another nap, it turned out to be less of a plan and more of a general idea. Crowley couldn’t sit still long enough in his new environment to come up with an actual game plan.

He was better at improvising anyways; his imagination was very good for something like that.

First, he had decided, he would explore the castle. Maybe he would find something about his host as well.

By now his clothes had dried enough to be wearable and luckily for Crowley, the castle was warm enough that he didn’t need three layers. And the layer he had worn underneath everything hadn’t been all that wet to begin with, now it was warm and toasty from the fire. It felt good to be in his usual attire, and the warmth only added to that. He left the other layers and the scarf be, he could get them later.

Then he set out exploring.

The castle was fairly big, but not as big as Crowley had hoped. It was more of a large mansion than a complete castle, even if it had many turrets and oriel windows.

Everything was kept in a kind of mix between baroque and victorian style. Something that could have been goth, dark and mysterious, but instead, the owner had kept all the colors light. Coupled with large windows and many many chandeliers, the castle seemed less and less spooky and more like the indulgences of a particularly hedonistic owner.

As for Crowley’s original purpose of finding something about his invisible host, well, Crowley found… absolutely nothing.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He found books. Books, over books, over even more books. If he had thought that the room he’d originally been in had been packed full, it was nothing compared to the rest of the castle.

Everything drowned in a kind of happy disarray and chaos. There was no real rhyme or reason or system to anything. Some books looked like they were dropped precisely where the owner had stopped reading and found a different book. There were scrolls and manuscripts all around the place.

But still, even with all the chaos, the tomes looked like they were cared for and that the owner made sure none of them would be damaged in any way.

Crowley, despite not being much for books or reading, still could respect that. So he trod carefully around the rooms in his explorations, mindful not to step on any stray paper.

But other than books, he found not much more of interest. He presumed that the books could hold secrets, but if he really wanted to start going through every volume, he would need at least a century.

He was almost done with his tour through the house when he realized that he was being watched.

It was nothing much, that alerted him to the other’s presence, only the hairs on his necks suddenly standing on end. 

That was a technique he had been forced to perfect because of his pack, as anyone could attack from behind when you weren’t careful enough. 

‘It teaches awareness of one’s surroundings,’ the pack’s leader had often repeated. ‘Kill or be killed. Always watch your back.’

Currently, he only needed to concentrate to pinpoint where anyone who was watching him was.

Now, that skill came in handy. He knew that his mysterious host was standing exactly two bookshelves behind him, silently watching Crowley.

Crowley didn’t let it show that he noticed his audience. He just continued to trail through the rooms that he hadn’t explored yet, still carefully avoiding any stray books along his path.

His host really hadn’t expected any visitors this century, if Crowley could judge by the general chaos all around.

Crowley didn’t find anything else, but by now, his attention was solely focused on his spectator. Specifically, why they hadn’t said anything yet, and why they stayed carefully out of sight.

Crowley had tried spying on them from his periphery, but they had made absolutely sure to hide everything. It seemed like the coattails from earlier were just because Crowley managed to get the element of surprise on his side and they hadn’t been fast enough to disappear.

Now, the only thing betraying that anything was afoot (except for Crowley’s hair still standing on end) were the barely noticeable swishes of air and the quiet rustling of fabric.

Crowley had strained his ears, but he couldn’t for the life of him, hear any footsteps. His theory about his host having wings seemed more plausible by the minute.

They continued with their strange sort of dance for the next hour or so. Crowley didn’t even care about going into rooms he had already visited. He only went from room to room, weaving through the piles of books while his pursuer kept him on his toes. Crowley could almost hear the music to their strange waltz. Everything else but his host was banished from his mind. Somehow, in a peculiar sort of way, he was having fun, transfixed in this particular moment.

Crowley wanted to laugh.

It was exhilarating. 

It only stopped when Crowley got to a staircase he had previously missed. He was about to step foot on it, to hurry up the steps in a sort of pretend-not-run, when he heard something else from his pursuer.

A sharp but still very quiet sort of hiss. A sound of displeasure.

Crowley faltered in his step and froze in his tracks. The other did the same.

For a moment they remained like that.

The other didn’t want him in this part of the castle. Why? He had let him explore everything else, even a couple of bedrooms. What was so different about this part?

For now, Crowley decided not to press it. He had enjoyed their dance and somehow, he didn’t want to break the moment they had shared.

So, instead of continuing, he whirled around on his heels.

And caught just the barest glimpse of the same beige, brown coattails as his pursuer silently disappeared out of sight again.

Crowley waited a few moments but the other was gone. And he left behind only a whisper of a memory of the dance they shared.

\---

Crowley was still pondering the moments they shared much later. Apart from returning to the couch by the fire, he hadn’t done anything else since the other had left him standing before that stairwell.

He just couldn’t make any sense of it. His curiosity was by no means sated, the opposite really.

But he knew he couldn’t get any answers.

For some reason that soft hiss of displeasure completely stopped him from going up those stairs into that wing of the castle. His mysterious host didn’t even show his face, didn’t even forbid Crowley from going there with words.

Just a hiss and then they disappeared. A hiss that Crowley might have not even heard if he hadn’t focussed his entire attention to his pursuer. Besides, had his pursuer even realized that Crowley had known they had been there? Had they even realized that Crowley had heard the sound they had made?

He could have gone there anyways. There had been no one stopping him. And since his host was gone and hadn’t shown up any time afterwards, there had been no way for him to know if Crowley had decided to disregard their wishes.

So why hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what his pack always taught him, to just take until he was satisfied with no regards of others? Why hadn’t he sated his curiosity right then and there? It would have been so easy.

But he hadn’t.

And Crowley didn’t know what to make of it.

So, for now, Crowley chose to ignore the staircase, ignore all that happened these last hours, and even ignore the weird dance, the game they had played.

He now had a firm grasp of the layout of the castle, even if he could barely remember what he had seen in the last few rooms where he had focussed more on his pursuer than on what was in it (it was probably more books anyways). So he knew now, that the room he had woken up in laid pretty central in the heart of the castle, flanked by the wings on either side.

Crowley was inclined to dub it the main room.

Due to the gentle warmth of the fireplace and all these confusing thoughts that Crowley wanted to get rid of, Crowley contemplated whether it would make sense for him to go right back to sleep. He liked doing that. He probably could sleep through an entire century because he didn’t want to deal with it.

But ultimately he decided that it wasn’t worth it. It would not bring him any closer to discovering the secrets of this castle and its owner. What might hold answers to his questions, though, were the books.

He didn’t entirely know just  _ what _ answer the books would hold, but they were everywhere and the owner obviously held them of great value.

Maybe the key to getting closer to them was the books.

Since Crowley didn’t even know where to start and didn’t want to spend the rest of his days going through all these books, he supposed he could just start anywhere. The object was just to get their attention anyways, so he picked the first book that caught his eye. Namely one that had something with astronomy in their name, even if he didn’t expect it to be scientific or accurate.

He got a few chapters in, when he picked up on the other’s presence again. His attention to the book had been wavering so the distraction was very welcome. He hid his slight grin behind the pages and tried very hard to look as if he was very much immersed in the story.

He doubted he could fool anyone with his charade, but it was worth a try.

Unfortunately, it seemed like his host was less interested in Crowley this time. In fact, it was almost like they were ignoring Crowley entirely. Because Crowley was listening so attentively, he could faintly perceive the quiet turning of pages.

His host had joined him in reading.

They were now just sitting a few bookshelves apart from each other, both quietly reading their respective books.

And for some reason, Crowley couldn’t even find it in himself to care that it was all that was happening.

Instead, he went back the few pages that he had turned without really reading what was on them and, ignoring the slight huff of laughter from his host as they realized just exactly what Crowley had been doing, he continued reading where he had left off before the presence had reappeared.

\---

The next few days were spent in much the same fashion.

Crowley would wake up on the couch, then he’d continue reading with whatever book had caught his attention and after a while, his host would join him in his reading.

In the afternoons Crowley would wander the castle, now less in search for something and more as a means to pass time and stretch his legs a little, and the other would silently follow him.

It was a sort of easy companionship that defied anything that Crowley had ever known.

Hell, Crowley knew nothing about the other, he didn’t even know their name! Just that they had been living in the same general vicinity of each other for at least a week now.

He saw nothing of the owner of the castle. Sometimes he questioned that they were even there, but the presence he felt while reading was undeniable and some mornings Crowley woke up tucked neatly in a blanket that he was sure hadn’t been there when he had fallen asleep.

They had both fallen into a sort of routine. They were the only people in the entire castle and they’d been enjoying their time just coexisting.

But Crowley’s curiosity had been gnawing at him. He liked the peaceful side by side they had going, but he also wanted to learn more. He needed something that would make the other at least reveal their presence, maybe even talk to him.

The most obvious choice was talking about books. But even with all the reading, Crowley had been doing lately, he still wasn’t that well versed in the topic.

No, he needed some neutral middle ground.

For some reason, even the very hospitable stranger hadn’t been so forthcoming as to offer Crowley any food or beverage, but with his explorations Crowley had quickly found a very well stocked kitchen and had helped himself. 

It was as if his host had forgotten that normal people usually needed to eat.

The kitchen Crowley had found looked suspiciously like it had never been used before, or at least hadn’t been used for a long time, despite it being stocked with fresh food. So Crowley was very confused about what and when his host ate.

Which gave him an interesting idea.

\---

Crowley hadn’t cooked that often in his life; he didn't particularly care for food that much. He liked drinking wine more. But the kitchen was well stocked with all sorts of delights, the food didn’t seem to have grown bad, and Crowley reckoned that the best way to anyone is through their stomach.

He looked through all the cabinets and didn’t find any real preference for a meal. But he did find quite the stack of sweets and chocolate, from which he gathered that the mysterious owner of the castle had quite a bit of a sweet tooth.

So Crowley supposed he could bake something. Maybe a Tarte Tatin? 

In the end, Crowley decided against it. Instead, he started making crepes.

Crepes were a mostly neutral but still very tasty option. He had yet to meet anyone who disliked crepes.

While Crowley didn’t cook often, he still had the knowledge needed. He had spent quite some time in France and for lack of anything better to do, he had learned cooking from some of the French master chefs, so he was fairly confident in his skills.

He had already finished three crepes when he felt the other’s presence. He could almost sense the curiosity coming off from them in waves.

But Crowley suppressed his smirk and continued working in silence without acknowledging his audience.

Soon he had finished his first batch of crepes, the rest of the batter he put into the pantry. He somehow knew that he would need it later. Then he set the table for two people, preparing two plates of crepes lathered with molten chocolate, although he took less chocolate for himself.

Then he set down at the table and waited.

He waited for a few minutes but the other made no move to join Crowley at the table. In fact, the other hadn't moved at all. They had frozen on the spot but their curiosity had increased.

They probably didn’t know what to make of the whole situation and Crowley could understand that. He, too, was still unsure what to do about all of this. But he was willing to give it an earnest try. It was all purely selfish, in order to sate his own curiosity about this place and its mysterious owner.

Crowley waited another few moments but the other still didn’t show any intentions of revealing their presence in any way.

“Look,” Crowley spoke into the room when his patience wore thin and he decided that he had waited long enough. ”We both know you’re there. You don’t need to hide. I made us some lunch. Why don’t you join me here? I know you want to, I can feel your curiosity from here.”

A few seconds passed and Crowley waited with bated breath. The other had stiffened even more, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. But it was nothing a little temptation couldn’t solve.

“It’s going to get cold, you know. Crepes taste the best when they are hot and fresh. One bite won’t hurt you and you’ve watched me making these, so you know for sure that I didn’t poison them. Come on in. I just want to see my host.”

Another round of silence passed. Then:

“What if I don’t want you to see me?”

The voice sounded scratchy and unsure, slightly wavering as if it hadn’t been used in quite a while. It sounded like a male adult voice.

“Huh,” Crowley answered eloquently.

The other gave a disgruntled huff and cleared his throat. Then he repeated himself, now with a slightly louder and surer voice.

“No, yeah, I heard you the first time,” Crowley said bemusedly. “I just don’t quite understand why…” He trailed off.

“Well, I just don’t want to be seen,” his host answered. “Do I really need to give you a reason?”

He sounded a bit petulant but it seemed less shy than before.

“Uhm, well, I guess not. It just confused me, that’s all. You don’t need to come in if you don’t want to… I just thought it’d be nicer to eat lunch together?”

The other didn’t answer, but Crowley hadn’t really expected them to.

“Look, I made you, us, these crepes and before they get even colder I would propose that we eat. If you don’t want me to see you that’s fine. I guess I can give you the plate? Or should I turn around and you get it yourself?”

“Turn around.”

Crowley complied.

He heard the same quiet shuffling of fabric and then a soft “You can turn around now.”

“As you wish.”

When Crowley turned around, the second plate was gone. In its place was just a thin layer of… dust?

Crowley used his hand to try and wipe it off the table but he found it only stuck to his skin. It was much finer than dust but Crowley couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Instead, he sat in front of his own plate.

“Can we at least eat together?” He asked into the empty room and kind of felt silly for it, even if he could still feel the other's presence. “Or are you going to whisk that plate off to Go- Sa- somebody knows where?”

“I will stay.”

“Great, uhm, thanks? I guess?” He swallowed down more words before it could get more awkward.

He took a crepe and bit into it when from the door came a noise that sounded far too much like… a moan?

“Is… Is it not good?”

The other’s voice sounded muffled when he replied, almost if he hadn’t bothered to stop chewing.

“No! No! I mean, no, it’s quite the opposite really! It tastes divine!”

“You’re exaggerating,” Crowley muttered under his breath, not used to such high praise, but now that he ate his own bite he had to agree, the crepes really came out quite well.

The other continued to make delighted noises and little moans of pleasure and somehow that distracted Crowley completely from his own portion. In fact, he more or less forgot for a few moments that he  _ had _ his own portion.

He could almost imagine the expressions to those amazing noises and he found himself wanting to see them.

“You know these crepes are the best ones I’ve had outside of Paris! You’ve really outdone yourself,” his host remarked conversationally.

Crowley chuckled a bit at that.

“Funny you should say that. I learned how to cook in Paris, actually.”

“Really? What more did you learn? How long were you there? When was it? Did you go to the Louvre and the other museums?”

Now Crowley had to fight against a full blown grin.

“I see you broke the silent treatment you’ve been giving me.”

The other quieted and his voice sounded quite disheartened when he spoke again.

“Oh. Oh, yes, sorry, I’ve been rambling, haven’t I? I’m sorry it’s not really any of my business and you only shared some crepes with me as thanks for letting you stay, you didn’t want to hear me ramble.”

Somehow hearing his words made Crowley want to squash all his concerns. It didn’t sound right to hear him speak like that.

“Well, I learned quite a bit of French cuisine, I think you’d like the brioche. Uhm, let’s see, I was there, I think 5 years? Yeah, that should be about right. It was a long time ago. It’s been a while since I’ve been to France actually. And yes, I did visit the Louvre. I had to see old Leo’s work after all. And yes, I did visit other museums as well. The Musee d'Orsay was quite interesting.”

Crowley could almost hear the other brighten up again. He chose not to remark on the other comment.

They continued their meal in companionable silence. The other resumed making happy noises over his crepes, and Crowley realized that he wanted to hear more of them. He would have to cook more often if these were the results.

Even so, he still wanted to see his host. And find out about what was in the wing that was apparently off limits.

Somehow the mysteries only grew with every new piece he acquired.

“So,” Crowley said after he was finished with his meal. “Even if I don’t get to see your face, can I at least know your name?”

“Aziraphale.”

“Hello, Aziraphale. I’m Anthony J. Crowley. But please, call me Crowley. Pleased to meet you, nevermind the irregular circumstances.”

“Likewise, Crowley. It’s a bit belated but, uhm... welcome. Please, do make yourself at home.”

Crowley chuckled.

“I think cooking in your kitchen counts as ‘making myself at home’.”

Aziraphale answered with a quiet breath of laughter. Then they ate a few bites in silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” Aziraphale surprised Crowley by breaking the silence.

“You just did.”

Aziraphale huffed.

“Yeah, sure,” Crowley grinned. His host was easy to tease.

“You were a snake when I found you. And I saw you. When you… flew over my gate. You had wings. It was a bit strange.”

“You could call it strange, but you still took me inside and you haven’t made me leave yet.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. You are a shapeshifter, aren’t you?”

“I’m surprised you know what that is. We’re not exactly that common.”

“I read so many books, my knowledge is quite vast.”

Crowley nodded. Then he realized that Aziraphale probably couldn’t see him and replied with a non-committal hum instead.

“But in no book have I ever read of a shifter with human-sized wings, especially not when their form is a  _ snake. _ Normally snakes don’t have wings.”

“You’re right, snakes don’t have wings...”

“See, and that’s what’s strange! I mean-”

“But ravens do,” Crowley interrupted Aziraphale before he could continue.

Aziraphale quieted down.

“That’s your question, isn’t it? How come I have wings when I’m a snake. The answer is simple, I have two forms. And one of them is a raven.”

“Shifters only have one form…”

“Yeah, I’m special like that. Two forms, two sources of power. A duality if you will. Although the snake is much more prevalent, which is why I’m cold-blooded, I still have the benefits from the raven. Namely the wings.”

“How could you make them human-sized though?”

“This is quite the interrogation for just ‘a question’,” Crowley laughed.

But Aziraphale didn’t pick up on Crowley’s joke, instead, he withdrew slightly.

Crowley who had been focussing intently on the other immediately noticed and backtracked.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just joking. I guess the key is imagination. I have quite a lot of it. And shifting kind of depends on it, even though my pack doesn’t get that. I think that's why I can change into two forms as well. I can imagine myself in two forms. Or I can imagine having only one trait from one of my forms, like the wings. But as I am in human form, my tiny raven wings won’t do much so I imagine myself with wings that could carry me in this form and that’s it. Voila, Human-sized wings. It’s actually quite simple when you think about it.”

But the other didn’t seem to perk up at Crowley’s explanation, he didn’t ask more questions. Instead, he seemed to quiet even further. It wasn’t obvious, but Crowley took notice of the slight change in the atmosphere, how it got heavier and how the silence became uncomfortable.

Crowley didn’t know what he did that caused this change.

“That’s interesting…” Aziraphale sounded small and the statement didn’t ring true in Crowley’s ears. “But why are you telling me this? Why... trust… me with this?”

“Uhm, it’s not like it’s a secret,” Crowley tried to backtrack to get himself out of this situation. “Everyone who knows me knows that. It’s just that most people don’t care. And it’s not like I can deny having two forms when everyone can see them.”

“That’s… not what I meant. Why did you answer my question? Why bother giving me this detailed explanation? What did you accomplish with that?”

“Accomplish? I didn’t accomplish anything. Why would I accomplish something with this?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer.

“I answered your question because I like questions. I like asking them, as anyone can attest to. One day, I will piss off someone with my questions, I guarantee you. And I like answers. Getting answers and sating my own curiosity but also giving answers. I think I like knowledge in general. Even though I’m not as much a book person as you are.” Crowley attempted to joke.

“Yes, rather,” Aziraphale sounded distracted, Crowley didn’t pry. He didn’t know what nerve he had hit but the atmosphere was oppressive. Even with his curiosity, Crowley knew when he had enough of a conversation.

He hoped he hadn’t scared his unusual host away with his answers. Crowley didn’t lie, his two forms really were common knowledge, he didn’t think twice about telling this literal stranger about it. It was a point of pride for him, to be able to do more than anyone else in his pack. But he could see how his level of openness could frighten a more closed off person.

He finished his crepes in silence.

Aziraphale did too, he didn’t even make the same sounds as before. In fact, he made no sounds at all and Crowley found that he missed the other’s little noises of delight.

When he finished his plate, Crowley quietly began to clean up.

“So, will you give me your plate?” Crowley pressed quietly, still somehow hoping to see the other face to face despite the heavy atmosphere between them.

“Or should I turn around again,” he added quickly.

“The second would be best.”

“As you wish.”

Crowley heard a quiet rustling and then the other’s presence was gone. Crowley didn’t take it personal, Aziraphale probably only needed some space.

He washed up and cleaned the kitchen, but he left some of the utensils out. It now looked more lived in. He liked it better that way, even if it was not his castle.

When he returned to the main room, Aziraphale was waiting for him.

The other seemed to have relaxed with a book behind a shelf and it appeared as if he wanted Crowley to resume their everyday routine they had built over the course of the last few weeks.

Crowley smiled and settled with a new book by the fireplace. It was warm and cozy and despite him never having been a book person, he did enjoy reading with company quite a bit.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale broke the silence between them and somehow managed to completely lift the strange atmosphere hanging between them since Aziraphale’s question about Crowley’s forms.

Crowley sighed contentedly.

“No need to thank me. It’s no problem at all. Besides, it was your kitchen.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh.

Then they both turned to their respective books, the only sound between them the quiet turning of pages and the crackling of flames.

Crowley burrowed a bit closer to the warmth.

He hadn’t learned anything about Aziraphale’s secrets, but somehow, he felt like he had made progress and for now, his curiosity rested easy.

He didn’t acknowledge the small but sincere smile resting on his lips.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley discovers more about the mystery of the castle?

The next days continued in much the same way only now they built a shared lunch into their daily routine.

They also talked more now, after the silence between them had been thoroughly broken.

They talked about everything and nothing and found with each passing day that they enjoyed the other’s company.

They didn’t talk about personal things though, each conversation just brushing upon much deeper meanings but staying firmly in the realm of easy, whimsical topics.

Now that Crowley had time to read a good stack of Aziraphale’s collection, they also talked about books. Crowley finished a tome and immediately proceeded to tell Aziraphale all about his favorite scenes or what confused him or made him think.

Aziraphale, who seemingly has read every single one of his books at least thrice, immediately knew what Crowley was talking about and it lead to interesting discussions.

Sometimes Crowley even ranted to Aziraphale while he was reading the books. Aziraphale always listened carefully and answered whatever questions Crowley might have, even if he himself was engrossed in his own literature.

It was an easy, comfortable routine.

But not much else happened. And it started to get underneath Crowley’s skin.

They’d been avoiding their conversation over their first dinner and Crowley still couldn’t understand why Aziraphale reacted the way he did.

Coupled together with Crowley’s still simmering curiosity about Aziraphale’s castle and why he wouldn’t show himself, it all grew into an itch that Crowley simply couldn’t ignore.

He didn’t know how to approach the subject though.

Crowley had always been good with words. He knew how to spin them into neat little threads that wrapped up his victim until they did what he wanted them to do.

Crowley jokingly called it his Temptations. He knew how to get what he wanted. It always came easy to him.

But with Aziraphale, it was like Crowley’s serpent’s tongue had just left him. Aziraphale threw him for a loop every time they interacted.

Crowley was at a loss.

He had been trying to read the same page of his current book for almost an hour now but his mind only wandered elsewhere.

Eventually, Crowley gave up trying to decipher the meaning behind the words he’d just stared at the past hour and stood up.

“I’m going to stretch my legs,” he said to Aziraphale.

That had been the plan, really. But because Crowley didn’t pay attention and was lost in his musings about Aziraphale, his legs just led him to the mysterious staircase that led into the unexplored wing.

Now, Crowley stood before it and considered it.

Aziraphale had stayed behind in the main room. He was probably occupied with a book of his. He probably wouldn’t move for a while.

Crowley could just… go up those stairs and look around. He would be quick, Aziraphale maybe wouldn’t even notice and he certainly didn’t need to know.

Crowley set a foot on the stairs but faltered. Over the course of the past few weeks, they had built a tentative relationship, a basis for trust. Would it betray Aziraphale’s trust in Crowley if he went against the wishes of his mysterious host when said wishes had never really been uttered aloud?

And really, his wish for Crowley not to go into that wing was not even a wish, just a hiss of displeasure after Crowley almost set foot in it and Aziraphale had never mentioned it.

Maybe he should have said something if he really wanted Crowley to stay away.

So, decision made, Crowley slowly ascended the stairs, looking back with every noise he made, just to make sure he wasn’t followed.

He wasn’t.

Somehow that made the slight twinge of guilt he felt about going behind his host’s back even worse. Aziraphale trusted him not to go there and here he was doing exactly what Aziraphale didn’t want.

But maybe, Aziraphale just didn’t care that much and Crowley was reading too much into an almost non-perceptive sound of displeasure.

So, Crowley went on.

The wing was dark. Especially compared to the rest of the castle which was kept almost entirely in light tones of cream and beige. This wing looked much more like something out of a dark gothic era and it was positively spooky.

It added to the whole mystery of the place and kindled Crowley’s curiosity much more.

What was more, this wing was almost entirely devoid of any books, which, compared to the rest of the castle, was almost jarring.

Crowley crept through a few rooms that were dark and in which the furniture was covered in sheets. It looked abandoned, almost haunted. Somehow, it reminded him of a room from a recently deceased person. As if the relatives couldn’t bear to even look at the furniture after their loss.

Maybe that was why Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley in these rooms. Or maybe there was a different mystery to uncover.

The layer of dust was even higher. No one seemed to have entered the rooms in ages. It made Crowley worry about his own footprints in the dust.

So he shifted into his raven form. He wouldn’t leave behind footprints if he flew. He had to fumble around with the door handles in this form, but he quickly figured it out.

In the end, almost every room in this wing looked the same. The same dark walls, the same closed curtains, the same covered furniture.

Crowley almost decided that it wasn’t that interesting after all and that he might as well return back to Aziraphale. But then he noticed the last room in the hallway.

At first glance, it didn’t look much different than the countless other rooms in the hallway. But then Crowley noticed something else. Underneath the ever-present layers of dust, the door had marks in the wood. It looked similar to slashes from a sword and the door was covered with them. As if someone had struck at the door hundreds of times, deep enough to leave a lasting impact in the wood. And the edges of each of the countless sword slashes looked scorched. Even in the dark hallway, the carbon black traces of soot marred the surface.

Crowley couldn’t make sense of it.

But he could feel that behind this door he would either find some answers to all his questions or he would uncover more mysteries. Maybe even a combination of both.

One thing was sure, this was important and it probably was the reason why Aziraphale didn’t want him here to begin with.

Crowley pushed his thoughts about Aziraphale aside. He was already in too deep and he would not turn around now.

Instead, he transformed back into his human shape, regardless of whether he was leaving footprints or not. He turned the doorknob almost reverently.

The door opened with no sound and Crowley didn’t dare breathe in fear of destroying the suddenly thick atmosphere and the deafening silence all around him.

He stepped into the room, the door swinging shut behind him still eerily silent. It didn’t make a single sound, even when it closed. The silence now enveloped Crowley like a blanket, heavy and all encompassing.

It was even darker inside the room. But Crowley didn’t dare open the door again. Instead, he stood perfectly still and let his eyes accustom to the lighting conditions. He had better night vision due to his snake eyes and it didn’t take long for him to orient himself in the room.

It also contained covered furniture, much like the rest of the rooms in this wing. But this room was much larger in size.

Crowley had to ascend a few steps of stairs after which the room opened into a sort of hall.

On the wall right across from the door hung a huge painting. It too was covered by the same cloth as all of the furniture but the cloth was ragged and torn. It looked like it had been slashed by the same weapon that had defaced the door.

Crowley lifted the torn fabric aside a bit. Not much, in fear that it would slip off, just enough that he could recognize the painting as a family portrait. Crowley didn’t see all the people depicted, but it didn’t make a difference because his eyes were caught by the man standing beside the others at the very edge of the painting. 

He was beautiful, there was no other word Crowley could use to describe him. His soft features were framed by curly hair that was so blonde it appeared almost white.

He wore an outfit that looked like it had already been out of style when the castle was still new, complete with a tartan bow tie. Still, it suited him. To complete his outfit, he wore an easy little smile, which was a stark contrast to all the other family members who had stern expressions.

But the most striking feature were his eyes. They were such a brilliant cerulean blue that almost seemed to shine out of the picture.

Crowley stared at the painted man’s eyes for a few moments longer before he let the cloth drop again and looked around the room some more.

The ever-present dust that covered the entire castle was even more prevalent in this room. By now Crowley suspected that it had to be more than just simple dust. Even in old houses he had never seen such quantities of it.

Crowley looked through a few covered cupboards but all of them seemed empty. Behind the massive blackout curtains, he found a beautiful view of the castle’s backyard but nothing interesting either.

He was just about to leave, carefully retracing his steps around the room and covering his tracks, rearranging everything to make it seem as if he’d never been in the room, when he spotted something.

It was almost imperceptible, Crowley only noticed it because he was very intent on finding every single one of his footprints in the dust. It took Crowley a while to figure out what he was even looking at, but when he connected the dots it was crystal clear.

There were tracks in the dust in front of the painting that looked like tracks a door would leave when opening and closing.

The painting was a hidden door.

A grin slid onto Crowley’s face.

He abandoned his project of covering his footprints as he would spend a bit more time in the mysterious room.

He risked a quick glance over his shoulder but it seemed like Aziraphale was still focussed on his book and hadn’t followed Crowley. Still, Crowley wasted no time in scanning the painting’s wide frame for irregular indentations that could hide a switch to a secret door and surprisingly he didn’t even have to search for long.

When the door swung open, Crowley locked eyes with the painted man again. They looked so real, Crowley almost doubted that it even was a painting. But this time the eyes’ spell on him didn’t last that long and Crowley stepped into the secret room with only a slight twinge of guilt at the thought of going behind Aziraphale’s back.

The first thing that stood out about the secret room is how bright it was, even though Crowley couldn’t see any windows and Crowley quickly spotted why.

In the middle of the secret room on a sort of pedestal, a sword was propped up with its blade pointing towards the ceiling, and it was flaming.

Somehow, inexplicably, the sword’s whole blade was alight with crimson-orange fire that flickered calmly in a nonexistent breeze.

Upon further glancing around, there wasn’t much else in the secret room, so Crowley walked up to the flaming sword to inspect it in detail.

It was a fairly standard sword that wasn’t very big or otherwise special, but Crowley did manage to make out intricate carvings along the whole blade underneath the flames. It appeared to be patterns but he could also see some words, even though he couldn’t read them; whether it was because of the flames obstructing his view or because it was written in a different language wasn’t clear to Crowley.

He stared at the sword a bit longer before he remembered where he was. This wasn’t his castle and Aziraphale might come looking for him at any moment.

Crowley looked over his shoulder but it seemed like Aziraphale was still in the room he left him in.

In a room full of books.

Highly flammable books.

Suddenly, all Crowley could think about was how much of a fire hazard this whole castle was. He had already deemed a fireplace in the middle of the main room to be dangerous, but a flaming sword in the middle of a room,  _ unattended _ .

That was not the best idea.

Crowley looked around, only now really seeing the rest of the room and he realized that it wasn’t empty at all.

There was a desk in one corner of the room and it was packed with all sorts of manuscripts and books that Crowley had come to expect from the rest of the castle.

While Crowley didn’t know for what specific reason Aziraphale would have a desk with stacked paper in a room behind a painting - except for the fact that Aziraphale obviously kept secrets - he knew for sure that such a desk was way too close to the flames to be considered safe.

Just one wrong gust of wind and the flames could catch the precariously stacked paper and once a fire was started the rest of the castle was doomed to follow.

Even if Crowley came to the room to find out about the things Aziraphale had been hiding, his biggest priority immediately shifted from rummaging through the desk inside the secret room to putting out the unattended fire and soon.

He had no water nearby, so Crowley did the first thing he could think of and pulled off his leather jacket to throw it over the blade to smother the flame. But the fire didn’t even flicker.

He had just wrapped the jacket around the sword and was hugging the clothing carefully to cut off all the airflow to the flames when he suddenly was bodily wrenched from the flaming sword. Not a second later, his slightly singed and still smoking jacket was thrown into his face.

Crowley startled and pulled the jacket away from his eyes in a knee jerk reaction and immediately froze.

There, next to the flaming sword, stood what could only be described as a  _ Beast. _

Crowley had never been a huge fan of insects; in fact, he couldn’t stand most of them. Most insects only ate holes into his plants and clothes or bit him. Bees were the only insects he could tolerate because they pollinated said plants. This meant that if Crowley saw any sort of insect, he usually would immediately grab whatever was closest to him and try to kill it. And if that killing was accompanied by a rather high pitched screeching sound, then no one would ever have to know.

Now, Crowley swallowed said high pitched screeching sound in his throat, because next to the sword in the eerie light of its bright blue flames, was a giant moth.

It easily towered a few heads above Crowley and its width almost took up the entire space inside the secret chamber. Its wings were flared wide open and spread from one end of the room to the other, the shapes on the wings looking like multiple eyes staring down on Crowley.

The thing was turned away from Crowley so he could only properly see its back.

The shadows cast on its furred body from the flickering flames made the being look almost grotesque. It hunched over the sword as if it was trying to wrap itself around it. It strangely looked as if it was trying to… protect it? The room was plunged into darkness because it was shielding the only light source and Crowley couldn’t make out much more of the creature's appearance.

Then, the creature turned toward him.

Crowley, who had had been frozen on the spot from the moment it appeared, stopped breathing.

It had no human expressions, its face was completely devoid of any discernible emotions and yet Crowley knew one thing instinctively: it was  _ furious _ . It fixated Crowley with its monstrous eyes and a cold, blank face. He could almost physically feel the anger rolling off of it in waves. 

Crowley flinched away from the creature’s huge compound eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul, but the thing immediately noticed Crowley’s movement and its anger spiked even more.

By now Crowley’s fight or flight instinct had kicked into high gear and flight was definitely winning. This creature, even if it was ‘just a big moth’, could destroy him in seconds. He tried desperately but inconspicuously to look for the only exit in the room.

The secret door behind the painting still stood open but the being’s huge wings were partially blocking the way. There was no way Crowley could escape just like that.

Also, he hadn’t been as discreet with his looking as he had hoped. The creature’s face gave nothing away but somehow, Crowley could  _ feel _ that it knew.

And its still present  _ anger _ hanging in the air was overwhelming.

Suddenly, the creature opened its maw. Crowley was expecting some kind of roar or something equally animalistic and dangerous.

What came instead made the blood in his veins freeze. The sound that came out was low and venomous, Crowley had to strain his ears a bit to catch it.

“Do you have any  _ idea _ what you almost did?” said Aziraphale’s voice in a growl.

At first, Crowley couldn’t comprehend what he just heard, it took a few seconds for it to sink in, but then the puzzle pieces came together.

Crowley tried to stammer a response, but the panic still sat in his veins and closed up his throat. He only managed to get out a few panicked noises that only in the vaguest sense resembled words.

“Do you have  _ any _ idea what you almost did?!” roared Aziraphale as he fully turned to Crowley.

“What were you even doing here? Was it not enough that I took you in during the storm? What was your plan? Why are you in here? I thought you understood that I did not want you in this wing, let alone this  _ room _ ! And then you went and  _ invaded _ this?! Do you have  _ ANY IDEA WHAT YOU ALMOST DID?!” _

Crowley didn’t know. He could barely even remember why he came into this room in the first place.

Curiosity. Always his damned curiosity. Of course it would one day cost him dearly.

“Mm… I- Sor- I mean… Uh...”

Crowley flinched back a couple of steps.

Aziraphale noticed and suddenly, unexpectedly, drew back. His great wings wrapped protectively around the sword again. He gave a breathy chuckle that sounded so dry to Crowley’s ears, it almost hurt. Aziraphale almost seemed to deflate, but that didn’t make Crowley breathe any easier.

“Of course,” Aziraphale muttered to himself and then, in the same low voice, dismissively to Crowley:

“Out.”

“Huh?”

“OUT!”

Crowley, who hadn’t expected this kind of volume, stumbled over his feet when he took a few steps back and fell hard, landing painfully on his back.

The pain was blinding but it kicked Crowley into action. He almost fell over again as he stumbled to his feet, but he managed to catch himself and scrambled out of the room.

Another roar accompanied Crowley as he bolted through the entire castle and out of the door, fleeing from the scene head over heels.

The only thought in his mind was to put as much distance as he could between him and the beast before it would cost him his life.

In his haste, Crowley didn’t even pause to get the rest of his layers of clothes from the main room or consider how running out into the snow in only a thin jacket would most likely kill him as well.

He only ran, ran, ran, until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, until the cold bit into his skin and eyes and lungs like thousands of tiny needles, until he could no longer breathe. He ran until he collapsed into the snow from exhaustion and because he had not paid attention to his surroundings.

\---


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was running from the castle really the best idea?

He was deep into the forest when rational thoughts caught up to Crowley where he was lying on his back collapsed under a tree.

Crowley was panting and the snow numbed his limbs, but he found he had little strength to sit up. He stared at the endless gray sky through the treetops watching the big snowflakes lazily fall.

Stupid.

That’s what he was.

Stupid to run into the snow without proper clothes.

Stupid for forgetting about the wolves in the forest.

Stupid for running in the first place.

Stupid for going into that room and snooping around, for betraying Aziraphale’s trust.

Over the weeks that Crowley had stayed at the castle, Aziraphale and he had built a connection. They had somehow understood each other, even without words.

Maybe they even had been tentative sort of friends.

But Crowley destroyed it.

And for what?

Sating a bit of curiosity.

He destroyed something that could have been amazing, something that had taken weeks to only start growing, in the blink of an eye.

Aziraphale had taken Crowley in when he was in need and then he had  _ continued _ to allow Crowley to stay. He had allowed Crowley to make himself at home.

Aziraphale had been nothing but kind to him and this is how Crowley repaid him?

He had even made Crowley forget why he had been running in the first place. In these few weeks, Crowley had completely forgotten about Hastur and Ligur and his pack. He had made Crowley forget about all his worries.

The time in the castle was the happiest Crowley had ever been.

And now? Now it was gone. Destroyed.

Like everything good in Crowley’s life. Of course.

Now that Crowley had a clearer head, he could see how stupid he had been.

He thought back at how Aziraphale always made sure to stay out of sight. How careful he had been, only coming out into the open after Crowley had breached his privacy. Aziraphale probably hid because he was scared of rejection.

Crowley could see how important that sword had been to Aziraphale, so important that he had thrown all his carefulness right out the window just to guard it.

And Crowley had gone and confirmed all of Aziraphale’s fears by being afraid of Aziraphale’s true form when he finally saw it. Hell, he had even bolted from the castle after seeing Aziraphale.

Crowley had really fucked up.

And he needed to fix it.

Now determined, he came to his feet despite his earlier exhaustion and the cold. He had to make things right and he had no right to be complaining about the snow right now.

But immediately another thing became clear.

When he had fled from the castle, he really hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than getting away, because he had absolutely no idea where he was or, more importantly, how to get back to the castle.

When he first came to the castle, all those weeks ago, he had - quite literally - stumbled upon it. So he had no clue where it actually lay.

He turned around his axis a few times, but the dense forest gave no indications where Aziraphale’s home might be.

Only after looking even harder Crowley found his own footsteps, but they were rapidly fading as the freshly fallen snow began covering them up.

That kicked Crowley into high gear.

He ran through the woods at almost the same breakneck speed as before while following his steps. He had to get back before the snow concealed his tracks.

Unfortunately for him, Crowley’s life was never that easy.

Crowley stumbled to a halt when it became abundantly clear that the tracks he had been pursuing were no longer discernible.

The undergrowth around him still gave no tips.

Crowley was helplessly lost in the midst of the winter woods.

He stumbled around for a few steps but ultimately always returned to the point where he had thought he had seen the last of his earlier footsteps.

He didn’t know what to do, so he collapsed to the ground again.

He sat in the snow desperately trying to come up with a plan to get back to Aziraphale. Back to the warm castle filled with books and great company. He had to apologize to Aziraphale.

Now that he had been able to reflect on it, Aziraphale hadn’t even looked that monstrous or beastly. He had been wearing a prim waistcoat for heaven’s sake!

His form was that of an incredibly big insect, yes, but Aziraphale was just a big fuzzy moth in retrospection. And it was Aziraphale and nothing about Aziraphale could ever be called “beastly”. Aziraphale was a gentle soul, who liked books and reading and discussing big questions both serious and silly and who made delighted little noises while eating.

Being a giant moth was just a part of who he was.

It was kind of fitting really. The castle with its nooks and crannies and dusty corners was the perfect place for a moth. And Aziraphale’s form would explain why he liked all these chandeliers, even in such close proximity to the books; he was literally a moth drawn to the flame.

Maybe that was why he reacted the way he did when Crowley tried to smother the fire dancing around Aziraphale’s flaming sword?

All in all, just because Aziraphale’s looks scared Crowley at first didn’t mean that the weeks prior hadn’t happened.

Aziraphale was still the same sweet, caring person and he was still Crowley’s friend.

Which was why Crowley needed to find a way to get back to the castle soon.

When the solution finally hit Crowley, he felt incredibly stupid, but he would blame the cold for impeding with his thinking. Crowley was a shapeshifter and even if the snake was no use for him in this situation, his other form was.

Crowley wasted no further time and transformed into his raven form and flew above the treetops. From there he would have a better view and would be able to spot the castle faster. Crowley still had to search around as he had run farther than he’d assumed, but at least now, he would be able to find it.

Down below, Crowley could hear the pack of wolves he had encountered before howling. Now up high in the air, he paid them no mind.

But then a sudden movement caught his eyes.

Unable to contain his curiosity despite himself, Crowley flew a bit lower to gather what was happening.

When he finally saw, he almost dropped out of the air.

Down in the forest was Aziraphale’s unmistakable form and he seemed to be in a struggle with the wolves.

He was surrounded by the whole pack, a few of which were hanging off his body, tearing bloody wounds into his sides and the vulnerable membrane of his wings with their fangs and claws.

The being that looked so dangerous and intimidating in a dark room now looked overwhelmed and probably even frightened.

But still, Aziraphale was fighting and he was good at it. His body was larger and more powerful than the wolves. He threw two off of him and slammed them into the trees where they fell unconscious.

His body might be that of a moth, but he was by no means fragile. The edges of his wings seemed to be razor-sharp as they cut through the ranks of wolves and his claws too were a force to be reckoned with.

Aziraphale moved like a warrior that much was visible even to Crowley’s untrained eyes.

But still, the wolves were too many for just one person and Aziraphale was struggling.

What Crowley didn’t understand was why he was out of the castle in the first place. Aziraphale had never stepped foot outside his own four walls in all the weeks Crowley had known him.

But that was not important at the moment. Aziraphale needed help, now.

Crowley swooped low and joined the fight. He wasn’t much of a fighter and as a raven he couldn’t do much to the wolves, but he too had claws and a sharp beak and even just distracting the wolves from their target could save Aziraphale.

He pecked at the wolves eyes, he flew into their fields of vision, he scratched at their faces, always too quick to get caught in their maws.

It wasn’t much, but with the wolves confused and unfocused, Aziraphale was able to get the upper hand and fell a few more of the pack.

It was a strange battle, but at least it was over quickly. The last few wolves retreated with their tails between their legs and finally, Crowley and Aziraphale could breathe again.

Crowley dived headfirst into a pile of snow where he rested a few moments before he transformed back into a human, now wet from sweat and snow and thoroughly exhausted.

Aziraphale, despite his greater injuries and the fact that he fought most of the battle, remained standing. When Crowley transformed back, he showed no reaction.

Only when Crowley stepped closer and tried to assess his wounds, Aziraphale allowed his weight to collapse.

Crowley caught him and steadied him. Both were silent, except for their still heavy breaths.

“Why… why were you out?” Crowley asked at last.

“To search for you.”

That surprised Crowley. After what had happened in the castle, he would have thought Aziraphale would want him as far away from himself as possible.

“Why?”

“To apologize. And because I thought you had forgotten about the wolves. They got to me first though. Which was better.”

“Better?! Why would it be better? And why should you apologize? For what?”

“For scaring you,” Aziraphale didn’t answer his first question. “For driving you out into the snow despite the fact that you’re a snake shifter and are weak to the cold. You left your clothes. I brought them with me.”

Aziraphale lifted his wings and sure enough, folded neatly underneath the membrane there were Crowley’s jacket and scarf.

Crowley stared at the clothes in disbelief. Then looked back at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s face was unreadable and Crowley wasn’t sure whether that was due to his insectile face or because Aziraphale had carefully schooled his features to not reveal anything. But in those huge faceted eyes, Crowley could almost feel the deep-seated melancholy. Melancholy he himself had fuelled.

Aziraphale turned away from Crowley’s gaze, most likely, he was ashamed of his true form, especially after how Crowley had reacted the first time he had seen it.

How long had Aziraphale been alone in that castle? How long had it been since he’d spoken to another person? How long had Aziraphale hidden his true self from others in fear of rejection?

And now Aziraphale thought he had to apologize to Crowley?

“It was more than in your right to do that. I invaded your privacy. I probably almost damaged your sword. I had no right to be in that wing, let alone that room. You reacted the way anyone would. You have nothing to apologize for,  _ I _ am the one at fault. And I wanted to apologize to  _ you _ . There is no excuse for my actions.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You were simply curious. And I hadn’t told you to stay away from there.”

“But you did.”

Aziraphale stayed silent.

He was still bleeding.

“Come on. Your wounds need medical attention and it’s cold. Also, this really isn’t the best place for heavy conversations.”

Crowley helped carry Aziraphale’s weight and with Aziraphale’s quiet directions, they slowly made their way back to the castle.

By the time they got there, Aziraphale was half-unconscious and when Crowley carefully lowered him onto the couch before the fireplace, Aziraphale was asleep before his head hit the pillows.

Crowley was exhausted too, but he was the cause of Aziraphale’s wounds, he had no right to complain. Instead of joining Aziraphale in his sleep, Crowley made out on the quest to find a medical kit to dress his host’s wounds.

On his way out the room, he noticed the trail of blood Aziraphale had left behind and winced.

It was all his fault.

Due to Aziraphale’s large size and his position on the couch, it was fairly difficult, but Crowley managed to at least clean and wrap up all the wounds.

Since he didn’t have much practice, the bandages were made rather poorly, but at least they stayed wrapped, so Crowley counted that as a win.

Next were Aziraphale’s wings. Crowley didn’t know much about moth wings or butterfly wings for that matter, but he knew that he had seen a wolf biting into them before he had joined the fight.

Slowly, carefully, Crowley turned Aziraphale to rest on his stomach so he could get to the wings. He pulled them open and searched for wounds but luckily found none, he didn’t know what he would have done if he had found holes or tears in the wings. With his raven feathers it was a bit easier.

Oddly enough, despite their appearance, Aziraphale’s wings were hard and durable, as if they were made from iron rather than thin membrane.

They also were razor-sharp, as Crowley had seen.

When Crowley put Aziraphale’s wings back to their rightful place, he noticed that his hands were covered in fine dust that stuck to his skin. The same dust that was all around the castle. That explained why everything in this place was covered in a fine sheet of it. Crowley had been right about it not being normal.

Finally, Crowley was satisfied with his first aid.

He found the blanket Aziraphale had always covered him with the past weeks and pulled it over Aziraphale’s body.

Then he all but collapsed at the foot of the couch and leaning back against it. Despite remaining in a sitting position, he fell asleep immediately.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley talk about what happened?

He came to again when he felt hectic movements on the couch and only moments later almost got a flapping wing slapped into his face.

Aziraphale appeared to be tossing and turning in agony and his sloppy bandages were slowly but surely coming apart.

Aziraphale was having a nightmare.

Crowley was instantly wide awake.

He jumped up and tried to subdue Aziraphale’s plenty flailing limbs, but Aziraphale was in too deep and very much stronger than Crowley.

Also, he appeared to be crying. Well, as good as someone with faceted eyes and no tear ducts can cry.

Suddenly, Aziraphale shot up.

“No, no, please no, I can be better, I can try, please! I- I’m sorry… Please! Gabriel!”

Aziraphale was clearly still dreaming. Crowley didn’t know who Gabriel was, but he seemed to be important to Aziraphale if he was having nightmares like this.

Oddly enough that thought sent a pang of… something through Crowley’s chest. Crowley ignored it. Instead, he managed to grab what he assumed were Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Hey, Aziraphale, everything's fine! It’s just a dream! Wake up! Hey, shhhhh… shhhh… Everything is alright, I’m here.”

Crowley’s voice was so calm and soothing, he actually managed to surprise himself. But after what he had done to Aziraphale today, it was only fair that he would comfort the other now.

Slowly but surely, Aziraphale calmed. His breathing steadied again and soon, he was again deep asleep.

It was only when Crowley tried to pull his hands back, that Aziraphale moved again. His face scrunched up, much like a human’s, and Crowley could feel his displeasure at Crowley’s movement.

So, he sat on the couch in a more comfortable position and began smoothing down Aziraphale’s frown with his fingers instead of pulling away. Then he resorted to stroking lightly along Aziraphale’s wings, not much, just a gentle petting. 

Despite being as strong as iron and razor-sharp, Aziraphale’s wings were surprisingly fluffy, as was the rest of his body. Aziraphale was covered head to toe in a layer of silky smooth fuzz that felt very soft to the touch. He was like an overgrown teddy bear and Crowley could only ask himself how in the hell he had ever found Aziraphale’s form frightening.

Crowley fell into a rhythm of trailing his hands over Aziraphale’s (for lack of a better word) fur. It was so calming that he himself started to nod off.

But every time he did, Aziraphale would move or whimper quietly and Crowley jerk awake and resume to his petting.

Crowley didn’t know how long he sat there, but his arm was slowly starting to go numb. He would gladly sit there and pet Aziraphale for ages though, just to make up for his actions earlier that day. It was Crowley’s fault that his host was badly wounded and he had hurt Aziraphale too. He would sit here all night if it meant that Aziraphale would forgive him for it.

Aziraphale was Crowley’s first tentative friend and Crowley would do damn near everything to keep it like that.

“Quite the pair, us two. It’s a miracle that two lonely souls like us found each other. I really hope you will stay my friend,” Crowley whispered into the room, partly to keep himself awake, partly because it rang so true. Still, he was glad Aziraphale wasn’t awake to witness him being so sappy.

Crowley sighed and continued with his ministrations when suddenly, Aziraphale jerked. Six limbs wrapped around Crowley’s body and suddenly, without really comprehending what happened, Crowley was pinned to the couch by Aziraphale’s warm body.

Even in his sleep Aziraphale’s limbs clamped onto him with the strength of a vice and even if Crowley fought, he wouldn’t have been able to move.

But he didn’t fight it. Instead, he breathed a low chuckle and relaxed against Aziraphale’s hold. Aziraphale was soft and so damn warm, finally chasing the cold out of Crowley’s snake bones. He quite frankly made the perfect pillow.

“I’m taking that as an answer,” Crowley laughed.

And within minutes he, too, was fast asleep.

\---

When Crowley awoke from a few stray sunbeams, he was disoriented. He was surrounded from all sides by warmth that sank deep into his bones. He was lying on something incredibly soft, something that smelled of old books and cocoa and campfire. He had also slept better than he had in  _ eons _ . All the tension from years of not quite enough sleep in his body was gone and it was palpable. His disorientation didn’t even matter.

All in all, Crowley felt good, great,  _ heavenly. _

He pushed his face further into the softness away from the light, nuzzling the fuzz under his nose. He just wanted to sleep a little while longer, he was not ready to give up the best nap he had had in years.

But then the something under him moved and tried to squirm away.

Crowley wrapped his arms around it and pulled it closer again, holding it tight.

And then the something started laughing and tried to squirm away even more.

“H-Hey! Crowley! That tickles!” Aziraphale chuckled and only then Crowley realized that his pillow was actually his host who was trying to pry Crowley’s vice-like hold off of him.

Immediately the events of the previous day came rushing back to Crowley and the shifter shot up.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, did I open the bandages? Are your wounds alright? Of course they aren’t alright, they’re wounds, but they didn’t get worse, did they?”

Aziraphale only chuckled.

“You know that wasn’t the reaction I expected after yesterday. No, my wounds are fine. You did a good job dressing them, thank you, dear boy.”

Hearing Aziraphale talk to Crowley like that, like he had spoken to him the past weeks, like they were still friends, lifted a heavy weight off Crowley’s shoulders. The incidents of the previous day were not forgotten and probably not forgiven, but at least Crowley had not completely destroyed their relationship. At least Crowley could save what they had had.

And he would start  _ now.  _ This time, he would apologize properly.

Crowley looked Aziraphale square in the eyes, taking every shimmering facete, like thousands of diamonds.

“I’m sorry. My behaviour yesterday was unacceptable. Er- I said that already, yesterday, didn’t I? Doesn’t matter, I’ll say it again.

”I should not have been in that room and I certainly should not have tried to touch your private belongings. And… and my reaction when I saw you... was unforgivable as well. I was spooked and ran off instead of bearing the consequences of my actions.

“I hurt you with that, even if I did not... want to,  _ ngk, _ and I will apologize again... and again for it. After everything you have done for me, that was not how I wanted to repay you. I betrayed your trust and hospitality. I even got you hurt when you rushed after me to save me from my own stupidity. And I very humbly apologize for everything. Uhm... It is not enough, I know, but I hope you can still... forgive me, maybe, if you can still… do that, and that I didn’t destroy everything we had built between us these past few weeks. I-”

“That’s quite enough, my dear boy,” Aziraphale, who had visibly only been waiting for an opening in Crowley’s rambles, interrupted. “There really is no need for all that. I scared you and it was in your right to react that way; I never blamed you for it. You were never explicitly told that I don’t want people in there, you only managed to figure it out somehow. And it was not right for me to just take that for granted.

“Besides, when I rushed out to the wolves, that was my decision, that most certainly wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even in trouble in the first place. I only assumed… I, I underestimated you, I thought you were less competent than you actually are and that was unfair of me as well. I never wanted you to see my form so I apol-”

Crowley clamped his hands before Aziraphale’s mouth. It was the only way he could think of to make him stop.

“Ngk,” Crowley said, eloquently.

Aziraphale only stared at him. It really was quite difficult to see what he was thinking behind those eyes. It made Crowley miss his own dark lenses.

He slowly pulled his hands away, when Aziraphale showed no sign of continuing with his apologies.

“I think,” Crowley attempted. “I think we should stop that. Uhm, apologizing I mean. We are both feeling guilty but won’t accept the other’s forgiveness. So… maybe, I don’t know, maybe we should just let it be? I mean, if that’s okay? Because you really don’t need to apologize, not to  _ me _ .”

“Crowley, my dear boy...”

Crowley clamped his hands over Aziraphale’s mouth again.

“No, don’t say it! We’re going to get stuck in a loop!”

Aziraphale sighed.

“Very well. I won’t say it. That doesn’t make it any less true.”

Silence fell between them and Crowley kind of regretted to have stopped Aziraphale. At least with the apologies, there had been a conversation between them. Now all that was left was awkward silence.

It was Crowley’s fault, of course, after all, how should he recover from Crowley running away from fear of him? How should he be able to return to their banter and discussions over books? The atmosphere was too tense for that!

An arm landed on Crowley’s shoulder.

“You suggested we stop, but that means you should stop your worrying as well. I do forgive you, we don’t have to feel so tense around each other.”

“Er,” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale chuckled. 

Crowley didn’t like feeling so vulnerable and exposed, so he decided to change the topic.

“If you say it was only your decision and not my fault that you ran out to the pack of wolves, what were you even thinking? That was beyond reckless! That could have ended way worse and your wounds are already pretty bad! What if I hadn’t found you in time to help?”

“But you did find me, my dear boy.”

Crowley knew no answer to that.

“My dear, that is in the past. There’s nothing we can do to change this outcome. Besides, I would do it all over again if it meant that you were safe from the wolves.”

Crowley hid his blush by standing up from the couch and walking to the fireplace.

“Ngk, You can’t just say such things,” he muttered under his breath. If Aziraphale heard it, he gave no indication.

Crowley started absentmindedly stoking the fire while willing his face to return to a normal color.

In the silence his hope bloomed. Maybe he and Aziraphale actually were friends. Maybe he hadn’t destroyed anything.

“So, Crowley, what will you do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where are you going to next? This castle had only been a stopgap for you, hasn’t it?”

Crowley stopped.

“Is there- I- Do you want me to?”

“To what?”

“To go, I guess.”

In the resulting silence, Crowley almost started packing his things together right then and there.

“No… Not particularly. I mean, you can stay for as long as you like. But… I do not want to keep you here. Not for my sake.”

“Great,” Crowley remarked without turning to face Aziraphale. “I will stay. It’s too cold out there anyways. And besides, I need to take care of your wounds. Without me, you wouldn’t be in this situation. And I can’t trust you to take care of yourself properly.”

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale said and Crowley could almost hear his smirk, despite the insectile features.

“Ngk,” he answered and ignored the grin.

A few moments passed and Crowley finally got his blush under control, but then Aziraphale decided to pull the rug out from under him again.

“You were coming back, weren’t you?”

Crowley turned a questioning look at his host.

“When you found me in my... scuffle with the wolves. You wouldn’t have found me if you weren’t already up there as a raven. The castle is the only thing in this direction. You were coming back to the castle, weren’t you? Why?”

Crowley turned away again.

“Yes,” he said simply. “My actions were wrong and I hurt you and I needed to apologize. That’s all.”

“You would come back willingly to apologize to a beast?”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale horrified.

“What are you even talking about? Are you- I mean… You can’t be talking about  _ you _ , surely!”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to avert his gaze.

“You are no beast,” Crowley said with conviction, almost spitting the word as it left a bitter taste. He had thought of Aziraphale that way back then and he was beyond ashamed at himself for that. He had never thought that Aziraphale would think so as well.

Aziraphale remained silent and Crowley did not know what more to say about it, so they both quietly let the topic drop.

\---

It was kind of weird how  _ easy _ it was to return to their routine of sitting in the main room and reading with the occasional food break.

Somehow nothing seemed to have changed while at the same time everything had.

The biggest difference was that they now both sat on the couch, not just Crowley. Aziraphale no longer had to hide.

Aziraphale sat ramrod straight at one end of the sofa and did not move at all save for the turning of the pages, while Crowley moved between positions every second.

Aziraphale wisely did not comment on the ridiculous positions Crowley ended up in. He just continued reading his own book while Crowley hung upside down over the armrest.

They continued their discussions whenever Crowley had finished a book, only now Crowley could see how animated Aziraphale got. It was clear as day how much Aziraphale loved books and loved talking about them. It was endearing how much Aziraphale talked with all four of his hands when he got excited or worked up about anything.

The other major difference was that Aziraphale now read to Crowley from time to time.

Ever the attentive host, he would notice when Crowley became more restless. He would gently take the book from Crowley’s hands and start reading for him in a gentle, calming voice.

Aziraphale had a great reading voice, he always hit the right emotional beats and the way he read brought the characters to life. Crowley loved listening to it, loved losing himself in Aziraphale’s reading, so much so, that he more often than not found himself feigning restlessness only to get Aziraphale to read to him. If the other noticed Crowley’s schemes, he gave no indication.

The food breaks they took changed as well. Now when Crowley cooked, Aziraphale sat right behind him in the kitchen, just watching the process and commenting about various things. And when they would eat, Crowley could see as well as hear Aziraphale’s delight.

Somehow, everything had become much easier between them, they could sit in silence next to each other, quietly reading, but they could also talk for hours about everything and nothing and now it seemed like they could touch more controversial topics as well without disrupting their atmosphere.

The weeks that passed were heavenly, in Crowley’s opinion.

But the only real thing they adamantly did not talk about was about what had happened in the secret room.

And they did not talk about Aziraphale’s comment about being a beast and Crowley wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He just wanted to enjoy the carefree time with Aziraphale.

He was avoiding the thought of it, he knew it. He was running away from it, he was a coward for ignoring the subject. But then again, snakes were not known for bravely standing up for something. So, Crowley ate the guilt inside himself and they both adamantly stayed silent about everything that happened that day.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> There might be another chapter coming today, so keep your eyes peeled for that ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale bond some more and take care of the castle's fire hazard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the second chapter of today! Enjoy!

“You know,” Crowley said suddenly, while he was hanging upside down from the backrest of the couch again, this time without a book in hand. Crowley pulled himself up to face the other. “This place really is a fire hazard. Especially with the open fireplace and what with all the books and loose paper just thrown around.”

Aziraphale looked up from his book, looked around the room, hummed noncommittally and then resumed his reading.

“No, you don’t understand! Just one gust of wind from an open window and the whole place would light up like this!” Crowley snapped his fingers to demonstrate.

“Then don’t leave the window open, my dear. It’s cold outside anyways.”

This time, he didn’t even look up again.

“Ughhh, you know exactly what I mean!”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

“You should clean up this mess.”

Aziraphale closed his book forcefully with a resounding ‘snap’. 

“Mess?” He exclaimed. “This is no  _ mess! _ Every single book has its rightful place and is precisely where I want it to be. There is by no means a reason to clean up. I have a  _ system. _ ”

“Yes, yes, that’s not what I am saying.”

“Then what is your point?”

“My point is, my point is, the system! Look, there’s nothing wrong with your system and I believe you that everything is where you need it to be.” He added in a lower voice, “By some miracle or another,” then he returned to his original volume, “But! But there is also nothing wrong with a  _ new _ system, hmm? One that involves the shelves more and that places all the paper away from any fire. You wouldn’t want to lose your whole collection to a fire, now would you?”

“No, no I suppose I wouldn’t.”

“Well then. What do you say to a bit of redecorating? A bit of a break from our usual routine can’t harm us and maybe it would even be fun.”

“You would help me?”

“Yes, of course, it was my idea after all. And, when we’re done with the whole castle-”

“The  _ whole _ castle?” Aziraphale interrupted.

“Well, we have to be thorough after all. Anyways, when we’re done with the whole castle, I could make you crepes. What do you say?”

“If you put it that way… a little redecorating could be… fun. I could maybe even open up some space for new books!” Aziraphale’s face lit up and Crowley absentmindedly noted how much easier it had become to read the different expressions on the insectile face of his host.

“Let’s just stick to rearranging the old ones, shall we?” Crowley laughed. What had started out as a simple idea because he was a bit bored with all the reading now quickly caught fire within him when he noticed how enthusiastic Aziraphale was becoming.

Crowley was learning how much he loved making Aziraphale happy and if a little redecorating (with added crepes afterwards) that also managed to lower the chances of a fire would make Aziraphale this happy, Crowley was more than pleased.

He jumped out of his seat.

“Let’s go then!”

“What, now?” Aziraphale laughed.

“Yes, why not?”

“At least let me finish my chapter, you silly old serpent.”

Crowley just grinned and showed Aziraphale a forked tongue.

\---

Redecorating was as fun as Crowley had promised it to be. Aziraphale was a hoarder but he could appreciate a bit of order in his chaos.

Also, it gave Aziraphale time to go through each and every single book of his to determine where it should be placed.

While this normally would sound like a really dull activity for Crowley, Aziraphale managed to make even this interesting. He told Crowley little tidbits of knowledge about every single book or talked about why he liked it or not. And while that on its own would have already made Crowley pretty content with the situation, there was the added bonus of seeing how happy it made Aziraphale to share these little bites of information about his collection.

Reorganizing the whole castle would prove to be an enormous project that would take them weeks, but Crowley was content.

Despite his appearance, all Crowley ever wanted out of life was a peaceful, quiet life doing things he enjoyed maybe with someone who understood him. 

And for his entire life that simple dream had seemed so far out of reach.

Within his pack, life was never simple or quiet or peaceful. 

You always had to watch your own back and trust no one. The hierarchy was steep and caring only for yourself was the only way to survive. Sometimes Crowley thought that for a pack of shapeshifters, they all behaved far more animalistic than human. Defeat someone higher in the hierarchy and you got their place and if you were too weak, you were likely to be removed from the pack. Kill or be killed. That had been Crowley’s life as far as he could remember.

Having someone who understood him, who appreciated him had never been in the cards.

But now, here, with Aziraphale, Crowley had everything he ever wanted out of life and he was enjoying it to the fullest.

Currently, Aziraphale was standing on a ladder to get to the higher shelves, holding a stack of books while animatedly telling Crowley all about them. Crowley was tasked to keep the ladder steady, even when Aziraphale was flailing around wildly as he recounted the tales in the tomes with all of his four arms even while balancing a stack of books.

Crowley was silently marveling at the fact that Aziraphale trusted him enough already to have Crowley responsible for his safety on the ladder.

Of course it would have probably been easier if Aziraphale had just used his wings instead of a ladder but Aziraphale had insisted on doing it “the proper way”.

“Oh, this one! This one is great,” Aziraphale said pointing at a book Crowley couldn’t see from his angle. “You won’t believe how I got it! You see, I was on the market, when I spotted the shop in a secluded alley and it had great books as well! But when I came in, the first thing that greeted me was this smell, it was more of a stench really, and…”

It was then, that Aziraphale lost balance. It was not enough to fall, but the books he had been carrying toppled over and fell. Crowley had only enough time to react to steady the ladder so that Aziraphale wouldn’t follow his books down, so they both could only watch as the books fell.

A book managed to fall on another stack of books and knock that stack down as well, but, because they were quite close to the fireplace, what happened was that three books managed to fall into the fire.

Three of Aziraphale’s treasured books had fallen into the fire.

It happened in mere seconds, but before Crowley could think more about it, he had already stuck his hand into the fire and fished the three books out.

They were a bit charred but otherwise unharmed and the fire had not sprung over to the rest of the stack, so Crowley counted that as a win. He was inspecting the books that he had pulled out of the fire when two pairs of hands pulled Crowley’s hands toward Aziraphale.

Aziraphale cradled both of Crowley’s hands in two of his and inspected them.

It was only then, when Crowley felt the gentle touch of Aziraphale that he realized that he had quite literally reached into fire without thinking to rescue Aziraphale’s books and now his palms were tender from pain.

“Why did you do that?” Aziraphale asked softly.

Crowley found no words, so he just shrugged and made a non-committal noise.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Your books were in danger, I just... saved them.”

“But you shouldn’t have injured yourself to save  _ my _ books.”

“I just reacted… I guess. I didn’t think about injuring myself.”

“So what did you think about?”

“Saving your books,” Crowley repeated, not quite understanding what Aziraphale wanted to hear.

When Aziraphale didn’t answer, Crowley gently pulled his arms back out of the other’s grip. He bent down and gathered the books, brushing off a bit of dust from the covers, hiding a bit of a wince from the stinging sensation and handed the books to Aziraphale.

“Here, they’re only a bit charred. They’re still readable.”

Aziraphale looked at the tomes almost as if in awe and took them reverently.

Crowley’s fingers brushed against Aziraphale’s claws and then Crowley pulled his hands back.

“Right, I will just…” He gestured to the hallway. “Submerge my hands in water for a bit.” He sauntered off, trying to appear cooler than he actually was.

He really hadn’t realized that he was reaching into fire. The only thing on his mind had been Aziraphale’s reaction if the books had been burned. He had only acted on instinct to protect what Aziraphale held dear.

It was the first time he had ever done anything so selfless in his entire life. And that was including the time he had helped Aziraphale fight a whole pack of wolves.

The strangest thing was that Crowley didn’t even mind. He was just happy that Aziraphale’s treasure was saved and that was all that mattered. He thought back to the look on the other’s face like Crowley had gifted him the world. He thought back to how his heart had been beating against his ribs in a furious crescendo. He thought back to the way Aziraphale’s hands had cradled his own. He thought back to the soft feel of fur against his skin.

Somehow, he was beginning to think that his feelings were more than just mere friendship; they had slowly but surely morphed into something entirely new over the weeks he had spent with Aziraphale. Crowley was surprised at how relaxed he was at the idea.

He accepted that he would do anything if it meant that Aziraphale would be as delighted as he had been when Crowley handed him the books back.

He let a big grin rest on his face as he held his aching hands under the water, not even properly registering the pain. It somehow made sense that he would fall in love with the first person to really understand and appreciate him.

When Crowley returned back to the room, Aziraphale stood exactly where he had left him, still staring at the books with a strange look on his face that Crowley wasn’t able to place.

When Crowley entered, Aziraphale looked up.

“You know,” Aziraphale said softly. “For scolding me as much as you did for not taking care of myself and running into a pack of wolves on purpose, you’re not much better.”

Crowley just laughed.

Aziraphale smiled at him.

“Let me return the favor of dressing your hands as you did with my wounds.”

“You don’t owe me.”

“No, I don’t, but you got hurt because of my books. Let me do this.”

Obediently Crowley gave Aziraphale his hands. Aziraphale guided him to sit on the couch while he found the first aid kit.

Then he simultaneously began wrapping both with his two pairs of hands.

Crowley watched him work, but then he stole a glance upward.

The light of the fireplace was illuminating the back of Aziraphale’s head, the white-golden locks of fur shone brightly. It looked like a halo.

Aziraphale’s wings fluttered slightly as he worked.

When the thought struck Crowley he could think of nothing else.

Aziraphale looked like an  _ angel _ . A being of pure goodness right here on earth. And he was caring for Crowley.

Crowley’s own personal angel.

It was so fitting, Crowley almost berated himself for not seeing it earlier.

“Angel,” he muttered under his breath.

Aziraphale looked up at him quizzically.

“Sorry, I just… I was just, I don’t know, thinking aloud.”

Aziraphale shot him another beautifully angelic smile and resumed his work.

Crowley almost melted.

His angel.

After Aziraphale was done, he held Crowley’s hands for a few moments longer.

“You should not have done that, but… Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

Crowley felt his ears go red. “Shut up!” He said, in an exaggerated tone so that Aziraphale knew he wasn’t serious.

“No, it was,” Aziraphale replied. “I would offer to make you some food, but I’m afraid I’m not that great with my claws, still not used to doing stuff with them.”

Crowley slightly stumbled over the use of the phrasing “still not used”, but Aziraphale had already continued.

“I could offer something else instead?”

“You really don’t need to.”

“But I want to. After all, I have to thank my book’s knight in shining armor.”

“I’m no knight.”

“You are to my books. So please, let me. What do you wish from me?”

“You could read to me?”

“But I do that every day.”

“And I like it every day. Besides, now that my hands are all wrapped up, I can’t turn the pages. And I’m afraid I won’t be that big of a help during reorganizing.”

“Reorganizing can wait.”

Aziraphale picked up one of the books Crowley had saved and joined Crowley on the couch.

“That one is one of my favorites,” he said.

“They all are.”

“You’re not wrong but this one in particular. It’s a love story. It’s called Stardust. I’ve read it in multiple languages. I quite like the German name for it: ‘Sternenwanderer’. ‘Star wanderer’ it sounds so wonderfully poetic.”

Crowley settled down into the couch and let Aziraphale’s calming voice wash over him.

After a while Crowley was also getting kind of sleepy. He barely even realized how he had slowly but surely slid closer and closer to where Aziraphale sat.

Only when his head connected with a soft shoulder he noticed what had happened.

Aziraphale chuckled softly and guided Crowley to rest his head on Aziraphale’s lap, then he resumed reading as if nothing had happened.

Had Crowley been slightly more awake he would have flustered at the position he was in with his newly recognized crush. But Crowley was not that aware and Aziraphale’s soothing voice washed over him and pulled him under before he even realized what had happened.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you know I could not resist that entirely inconspicuous plug for Stardust bc it's one of the only reasons I even know of Good Omens and one of my fav books (+subsequent movies)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley uncovers some new mysteries?

Crowley was in a castle. The walls seemed to be made from the whitest marble Crowley had ever laid eyes on. It was absolutely spotless. There was not a flake of dust to be seen. 

But it felt sterile and dead.

Crowley was drifting down the hallway as is if he was floating. He had no control where he was going.

A huge door opened just for Crowley and inside was a room so bare and white it almost hurt to look at.

In the middle sat the most beautiful man Crowley had ever laid eyes on. He sat on a chair and his arms seemed to be tied to the armrests. He was tense but he did not try to get away. It looked like he sat there in grim acceptance at his fate.

He looked kind of familiar and it took Crowley a moment but he recognized him as the man in the painting leading to Aziraphale’s secret room. He wore the same prim coat as he did in the painting, even the same tartan bow tie, making him look as if he was at least a century out of place. He had the same golden-white locks that seemed to shine with the light reflecting off the pristine white marble. And his eyes, his eyes shone with the same intense blue fire and, sadly enough, barely concealed  _ sadness _ .

Crowley found he couldn’t breathe just looking at those eyes. They had already been breathtaking in a painting, but in real life, they were… ineffable.

Suddenly, another man appeared in the room. He looked entirely unremarkable next to the man from the painting. The only thing that stood out to Crowley were his intense purple eyes that were full of hatred. Full of hatred directed at the blond.

Seeing that look awoke protective instincts in Crowley that he hadn’t even been aware of until recently. The same instincts that wanted to keep Aziraphale safe at all costs flared up for this blonde stranger as well.

Crowley tried to shout to get the purple-eyed man’s attention, to get that hatred focussed somewhere other than the man tied up in the chair, but he found that no matter how much he tried, no voice came out of his throat.

So, Crowley tried to move in between those two.

He moved incredibly slowly, as if wading through thick sludge instead of air, but finally, he made it. He stood before the blond as a sort of protector, but the purple-eyed man did not even react. Instead, he just looked right through Crowley as if he wasn’t even there.

“Well well well. Who do we have here?” The purple-eyed man asked the blond.

He received no answer.

“You know why you are here, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then you know why this is necessary.”

“I do not.”

“Books, sunshine. It’s always books with you.”

“They contain great knowledge. Knowledge we could learn from.”

“They contain the lies of impure scum. We are an  _ Order _ ! You would do well to remember that!”

“I do.”

“What is the purpose of our Order?”

“‘To preserve the way of magic from our ancestors through prayer and hymns.’” The blond’s words sounded forced, he did not believe in them, that much was obvious.

“The  _ pure way of magic _ . That’s the important part. So where, pray tell, have you gotten the idea from that you could use books? It is bad enough that you read books for  _ enjoyment _ but I would have let that slide. But this? Using books to develop your magic. Polluting your well of power. You are a disgrace for our Order!”

“What is the harm in developing my magic further? To learn new things? To strengthen it? We are no longer in the old times, we should be able to evolve further than just our starting point. And books are an endless well of knowledge. There are so many things we could gain from them. Our Order could grow!”

“Silence!”

The purple-eyed man shot forward, stepping through Crowley as if he wasn’t even there. He gripped the man’s wrists where they were tied to the chair, pressing them painfully into the armrests, looming menacingly above the blond.

Crowley was powerless to stop it, no matter how much he tried pulling the guy away from the blond, his hands passed through the man as if they were made of air.

“Insolent fool! You have no idea what forces you are dealing with, sunshine. You are like a tumour growing in our Order. You need to be removed until you learn your  _ fucking _ place. You are like a dumb insect flying into a fire without even realizing the dangers you are in.”

The man stepped back.

“Yes, that is a great image. An insect. Very fitting. That should teach you the lesson you sorely need to learn. Maybe it would also take care of that gut of yours if you get away from earthly indulgences. Yes, yes, I’ve made my decision. This will take care of that little problem.”

The blond’s eyes widened.

“No, no, please no, I can be better, I can try, please! I- I’m sorry… Please! Don’t do this!”

“Oh, but I will. But we are merciful, we are pure. When you have learned your lesson, the Order will welcome you again.”

“What do you-”

“What did you think we would execute you on the spot? Oh, you poor thing, we are better than that. You will have a chance to redeem yourself. Take as much time as you need, but with the punishment I’ve planned for you, I doubt you would want to take much time.”

He let out a cruel, bitter laugh.

“No, I bet you will come  _ crawling _ back to us sooner rather than later. And I will enjoy that day when it comes.”

Then he straightened up again.

“Very well, I will leave you for a bit, to give you a chance to repent now to prevent your punishment. I expect you on your knees kissing my shoes when I get back. If not… well, in time, you will.”

Then, he left the room as suddenly as he appeared.

The chair the blond was sitting on disappeared under him, leaving the blond to crash to the floor in a graceless heap.

Crowley stood by, forlornly, not being able to help.

He watched with heavy heart as the beautiful blonde man laid on the ground looking up to the immaculate white ceiling crying bitter tears.

“Please, please, god, please no…” He was muttering over and over again as if in prayer.

The man’s god did not answer.

“I’m doomed.”

\---

Crowley awoke with a start. His dream that had seemed so lifelike, so real, faded rapidly from his mind. He could only barely grasp the rough details of the dream.

He could recall the beautiful man from Aziraphale’s painting and a purple-eyed man. He recalled the anger he had felt, the sadness and frustration.

But Crowley was not able to make sense of it all and so, he had to accept it as the dream faded into obscurity.

With it gone, somehow, Crowley felt as if he experienced a great loss. As if he had just forgotten something crucially important.

But there was no way to get it back.

Only then Crowley realized the position he was in.

His head was cushioned in Aziraphale’s soft and warm lap and he could feel one of Aziraphale’s hands lazily drawing patterns in his hair. Aziraphale’s breathing was slow and languid.

Crowley slowly turned his head and sure enough, despite the trailing hand, Aziraphale was fast asleep. While Aziraphale had no eyelids that he could have closed, Crowley knew from his own experience how to recognize a sleeping individual even with open eyes.

Crowley smiled and turned his head back. He stared into the dying flames of the fireplace and started to drift off again.

But it didn’t stay peaceful for long. Just as Crowley was drifting off, Aziraphale’s breathing became ragged and erratic. He jerked his hand back out of Crowley’s hair, waking Crowley in the process.

Aziraphale waved his hands around furiously. One pair went to protect his face while the other flayed around as if to repel an invisible force.

“Please, no, please stop. Please no. That will never happen. I could never- I would never find- This is not just, please you have to reconsider! No, no! You can’t do this! Gabriel! No!”

Crowley finally caught Aziraphale’s waving hands and held them steady in one hand while the other went to Aziraphale’s shoulder to gently shake Aziraphale awake from another one of his frequent nightmares.

The nightmares always seemed to be the same. And in every single one of them, the name ‘Gabriel’ was very prominent. Maybe Gabriel was an old friend or even lover of Aziraphale, maybe something had happened to him. But Crowley never asked, could never ask from fear of overstepping more boundaries than he already had.

He would not make that mistake again. His curiosity had no place out in the open and he would swallow it down before he hurt Aziraphale again.

A seemingly endless time later, Aziraphale finally jerked awake. His breathing was still harsh, but his eyes were focussed again and he seemed less haunted by the ghosts of his mysterious dreams.

Aziraphale focussed his gaze on Crowley and Crowley smiled reassuringly.

“Everything is fine now,” he whispered.

“Did I… Did I say anything weird… in my sleep?”

Briefly, Crowley wondered whether he should tell Aziraphale the truth, but it seemed like Aziraphale did not want him to know about the dreams.

“No, just a lot of incomprehensible mumbling.”

“Oh, oh, that’s good.”

Crowley was glad he didn’t answer truthfully. Yes, his curiosity, his questions, all of it was  _ too much _ . He would never burden Aziraphale with it ever again. Even if the questions gnawed at him, he would be stronger than that. He could change. For Aziraphale.

And even if Crowley had to wake Aziraphale up from many more dreams over the next days and weeks, the topic of Aziraphale’s dreams did not come up again.

\---

The days passed in their idyllic routine and Crowley was content. He had everything he ever wanted and he enjoyed the feeling of being in love.

In short, Crowley was happy. Maybe for the first time in his entire life.

They were almost done with reorganizing all the books in the castle. Even though Aziraphale refused to get rid of any books, somehow it still appeared as if there suddenly was much more space all around. So much in fact, that even Aziraphale remarked upon.

They had already cleared out one of the guest rooms so much that it could be used for its intended purpose and Crowley was enjoying it very much to be able to sleep in a real bed.

The bed that was larger than his entire room in the pack and was so soft you could sink into it and disappear. Crowley was tempted to sleep for a century in that bed. He had never known something could be so comfortable.

By now, they had moved on from tidying up the entertainment literature and were sorting heavy tomes and old papyri that almost sizzled with power.

They were located in the west wing of the castle, the wing Aziraphale had originally not wanted Crowley in and now Crowley understood why.

They were magic books. Aziraphale had a huge collection of them, ranging from simple spell collections and cookbooks for potions and medicine up to tomes that contained actual magic, so powerful that Crowley almost didn’t dare touch them, despite Aziraphale’s insistence that it was completely safe.

Crowley was incredibly baffled that these books containing enough magical energy to smite a small animal were just lying around, unguarded, not even secured.

While he had not stumbled upon them during his first snoop around the west wing, they still were very easy to find.

When Crowley finally couldn’t help but ask about it, Aziraphale just shrugged.

“No one ever comes here, so there is no reason to store them in incredible vaults and never take them out, just because there might be the slightest chance that someone could stumble upon them. They are as safe as any other book in my home.”

“But I came here and stumbled upon them!”

“So? Did you notice them at first? Or do you know what to do with them?”

Crowley didn’t answer.

Aziraphale just nodded without looking up from the books he had been going through.

“See, my point exactly. Books are there to be read; we can learn so much from them, just keeping them safe but letting them gather dust and never using them is just like letting a book die.”

“Is that why you left the books all over the place?”

Aziraphale leveled him with a blank stare that was made even more effective with his faceted eyes. Crowley stretched out his forked tongue out at him.

But Aziraphale had made quite a good point, so they did not secure even the strongest books and instead just sorted them into a different shelf.

While Crowley had sworn to himself that he would not let his curiosity run rampant ever again, he still couldn’t suppress a question bubbling over his lips.

“Do you know how to use them? I mean... Can you do something with them?”

He was met with silence.

“I mean, uhm, sorry, you don’t have to ans-”

“I used to,” Aziraphale said softly. “It’s been a while now and I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to again, but… I could.”

“Oh,” said Crowley but didn’t know what else to say.

In the end, they dropped the topic, as they had with so many others.

Somehow, Crowley couldn’t help but think letting these topics gather dust like old books would be just like letting them die as well.

\---

After their daily clean up, Aziraphale and Crowley always curled up on the couch together with a warm fire lighting up the room, now having a safe distance to any books in the room.

Today, Crowley was wrapped around Aziraphale in his snake form, happily dozing while Aziraphale read to him out of some book. Aziraphale was lazily and softly running his clawed fingers over Crowley’s scales. It made a soft rasping sound that helped lull Crowley into a state of pure relaxation.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stopped and looked up.

Crowley lifted his head from where it had rested above Aziraphale’s chest, listening to the other’s calming heartbeat.

“You know, we never did finish our conversation about your two forms.”

Crowley had not expected that sort of statement, at least not randomly during their reading.

“We didn’t?” He laughed, although it came out more as a hiss in his snake form. “You dropped the topic quite sssoon and I thought you already found out what you were interesssted in?”

“No,” Aziraphale said softly, looking into the fireplace as if it held the answers to life (the universe and everything). “No, I was just worried about why you would tell me that… At least… so early. You barely even knew me and you hadn’t even seen me. Er, face to face, I mean.”

“Sssso, if you sstill have quesstionss, jusst assk.” Crowley hissed and wondered if he should change back for that conversation. Then he decided that he was too warm and comfortable around Aziraphale’s neck and figured he might as well stay.

“You can only change into two forms? Or do you have more that I don’t know of?”

“Two, that’ss it. Ssnake and raven. Quite usseful actually.”

“Why those two?”

“Not ssure, it’ss alwayss been that way. Never really quesstioned it like that.”

“Do others have two or more forms as well? I thought shifters had only one form each. I never heard of someone having two. But maybe it’s actually quite common?”

“No, ‘m the only one. The otherss only have one.” Crowley burrowed deeper into the soft warm fur of Aziraphale’s neck. He liked answering Aziraphale’s questions, now that the other was less jumpy about having them answered.

“The only one… the only one with two sources of power…” Aziraphale trailed off, but then perked up almost immediately again.

“Oh and the thing, the- the, you know the one where you had human-sized wings without fully shifting. Can other shifters do that?”

“Nope, that’ss alsso a me only thing.”

“Huh. Wasn’t that hard… being… different than everyone else?”

“Eh, I found it cool. No one elsse can do it, doessn’t mean it’ss bad. It’ss just me, my powerss. Why would I need to feel bad about it? Bessidess, I bet they would be able to do it too, they are just unimaginative. And shifting iss ssuppossed to be insstinct. I jusst can imagine mysself in two different formss. And I can imagine having thessse traitss in my human form asss well. ‘Ss not that difficult actually.”

“And your eyes?”

“Oh, they sstay ssnake all the time. Even asss raven. ‘Ss my shifter feature. Every one hass one. That’ss why Beelzzz’ hair lookss like there iss a giant fly ssitting in it. Or why Hasstur hass frog eyes and Ligur hasss, or, well had, color-changing chameleon eyess. Dagon hass sscales in the face and fish teeth. Everyone hass featuress from their main form. It’s how one spotss a shifter.”

“And you can’t change that feature?”

“You can, theoretically, ‘s jusst a lot of concentration, sso we don’t bother.”

“And your glasses?”

“It’s eassier to wear glassess to hide them than to concentrate on keeping them changed.”

“But why bother wearing them at all?”

“Well, you ssee, mosst people think ssnakess are freaky. They get sscared. And if I want to pass asss a human, I keep them on.”

“So why are you wearing them here? I find your eyes lovely.”

Crowley didn’t know an answer to that, so he burrowed even deeper into Aziraphale’s fur. He felt more than heard Aziraphale’s laughter.

“‘Sss not funny, angel, you can’t jusst ssay ssuch a thing!”

He almost missed his slip up, but Aziraphale stiffened under him.

“Angel?” Aziraphale asked in a choked up voice. Crowley raised his head up to see his face.

“Sssorry, it jussst ssslipped out. You don’t like it? I think it ssuitss you.”

“No, it… it just caught me off guard. Never had anyone call me by a nickname before, my dear. That’s all.”

Somehow, even under the fur, Crowley could tell there was a blush spreading on Aziraphale’s cheeks.

This made him contemplate the logistics behind a giant moth blushing. Was that even possible?

Crowley’s mind sometimes went off on tangents like these, but at least he forgot his embarrassment about his eyes and the fact that he inadvertently called Aziraphale with the nickname in his head.

“I don’t mind,” said Aziraphale.

“Hm?”

“I mean… You can call me… ‘angel’... If- if you want.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, cool, that’s… cool, I- I will do that.” Now it was Crowley’s turn to blush. Crowley was grateful that his snake form hid the blush very well. Still, he tucked his head back into Aziraphale’s fur to hide from all-knowing faceted eyes.

Aziraphale reached up again and resumed the stroking of Crowley’s scales. Then he picked up the book and returned to their reading.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, there's a chapter nice and early and another one in a few hours, before I'm at a friend's birthday party later!  
> But for the next few days, I will return to my regular posting schedule of one chapter a day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale explore the castle's garden and Crowley has another dream?

It was snowing again, but this time the snowflakes were big and fluffy and fell at a languid pace. Crowley was, despite the cold, quite literally plastered to the window watching the snowflakes dance.

He was dressed in his many layers and Aziraphale had pushed a cup of cocoa into his hands earlier, so he was quite comfortable.

The snake in him was content in the warmth. But the raven in him saw the snowy hills outside and got excited, wanting to play in the snow.

Normally, the urge was easy to ignore, but at the moment, the snake in him was warm and did not keep the raven in check.

Crowley was so very tempted to run out into the snow.

He drank his cocoa and watched the snowfall until Aziraphale came back with his own cup of cocoa and some books.

Only when Aziraphale came up behind him and joined him in his observing was it that Crowley actually noticed Aziraphale had come in.

He spared the moth a glance and then resumed watching the last few flakes of the snowfall. They stood there, watching the snowy landscape in silence.

“We could go out for a bit,” Aziraphale said.

“Hm?”

“You obviously want to. We could go out for a while, it’s just stopped snowing.”

“But it’s so cold outside!”

Aziraphale smiled. “You have your layers and we would not stay long. Just a short little walk in the snow, that has never hurt anyone.”

“I’m a snake.”

“You’re a raven too. Don’t ravens love snow?”

Crowley didn’t reply.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said and left the room.

Crowley had to admit, he was intrigued. He had wanted to go and play in the snow, but he hadn’t really thought it would happen. Ever since he came here, he and Aziraphale always seemed to be confined to the castle.

He had never actually seen Aziraphale leave the castle voluntarily except for that night when he’d discovered the secret room.

For some reason, he had thought that Aziraphale never went outside.

Besides, Crowley wanted to see Aziraphale in a different environment.

So, Crowley put on his layers and his scarf and generally bundled up until he felt like a marshmallow. Aziraphale came back only a few moments later. He had put on a coat over his waistcoat and looked very prim and at least a century out of date.

Somehow, that only made Crowley think how cute he looked.

“Are you done?” asked Aziraphale, snapping Crowley out of his stupor.

Crowley nodded.

“And you? Are you sure you don’t want to… bundle up more?”

“I have my coat and my… fur. I don’t get cold that easily. I should be the one asking you that. Wouldn’t want you to go into shock hibernation,” Aziraphale grinned, or well, he made the insectile approximation of a grin but Crowley had been getting better in reading human expressions into Aziraphale’s face; it made it easier to understand Aziraphale.

“I won’t,” grumbled Crowley but pulled the scarf around himself tighter.

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled in amusement but it could have been Crowley’s imagination.

“Where are we even going,” asked Crowley as he hurried after Aziraphale.

“Just a short stroll around the garden. I don’t think either of us wants to deal with the wolves again. They are very active during the winter.”

“This place has a garden?”

“Oh yes, quite a big one actually. It even has a greenhouse as well.”

They had now reached the big castle doors and stepped outside into the snow.

The fine white powder crunched beneath their feet and Crowley relished in the sound, even if the cold immediately bit into his skin.

“A greenhouse? Is this where all your food comes from? I was wondering how your kitchen is so well stacked.”

“Oh, dearie me, no. I am not at all good with plants, I sorely lack a green thumb. And with these talons, I don’t think I ever could properly garden. It’s over there.”

Aziraphale pointed with one of his four arms on a building near the castle. It wasn’t small, but maybe because of age, it appeared as if it was hunched down. It also looked to be fairly run down and overgrown, even if everything was currently covered in snow.

“The greenhouse is currently fairly empty, it’s still a remnant of Gab- of the previous owner of the castle.”

Even if Aziraphale corrected himself immediately, Crowley had already understood what he had almost said.

The mysterious ‘Gabriel’ who always showed up in Aziraphale’s dreams had been the previous owner of the castle apparently. Maybe ‘Gabriel’ really had been an old lover.

“The greenhouse has an underground passage to the house, so one can even use it in the winter, if one so wishes. Once upon a time, it had been so very beautiful. Even more beautiful than the outdoor garden. People called it ‘Eden’.”

“Religious imagery much?”

“Oh yes, It contained such luxurious plants and it was even guarded like - as many joked - the original Garden of Eden, so no one could mess with the ‘forbidden fruits’. But people were allowed to visit it, under strict observation. It had simply been breathtaking.”

“What happened to it?”

“Well, it served its purpose, I guess. One day someone stole a prized apple, I think. After that, the previous owner closed the doors to the greenhouse for good. No one was ever allowed in again, except he himself. That’s why the passageway to the house still exists.”

“Were you ever inside it?”

“When it was still open, yes. After that… not again.”

Crowley did not remark upon the heavy pause in Aziraphale’s words. He also didn’t ask about the fact that Aziraphale had cleverly evaded Crowley’s question about where the castle’s food came from. 

He would not ask about it, he would keep his curiosity at bay. So, he looked around the landscape to distract himself from his thoughts.

The sky had cleared up and the sun was peeking out, bathing the landscape in soft light and making the snow sparkle. It was simply beautiful.

Aziraphale had not lied, the garden was quite big and its terrain included several small, rolling hills perfect for something like sledding.

They had no sled, but that did not deter the raven inside of Crowley. So, in an impulse that he was too slow to quell, he had already run off and tried to slide down one of the hills while still standing.

The keyword being: ‘tried’. He slid a couple of meters until his feet caught on something in the snow and he tumbled over and rolled down the snow, somersaulting a few times until he landed, dazed at the foot of the hill, right in front of a large fir tree.

Aziraphale came running down the hill a few moments after, wings spread to keep his balance and therefore far more graceful than Crowley had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concernedly.

Crowley looked up at him. The sun shone bright and the snow sparkled behind Aziraphale, making the pale blonde fur beam like a halo around his head.

Aziraphale’s wings caught the light and seemed to be like the pure white feathers of an angel.

It struck Crowley again, how beautiful Aziraphale was, even in his concern.

Crowley nodded dumbly in response to Aziraphale’s question.

Then, all of a sudden, the fir tree unloaded all of the snow caught on its branches upon Crowley’s head and Crowley found himself, dumbfounded, in the pile of snow.

Aziraphale stared at him in shock.

And then he started laughing.

Loud, Bright, clear pearls of laughter rang through the air, sounding like a thousand chiming bells. Sounding like a choir of angels in its mirth.

It was not a fairly subdued chuckle or an almost sarcastic huff of laughter that Crowley already heard from Aziraphale. No, this was pure, unadulterated joy and it rang through the winter day as if carried by wings.

Crowley’s heart clenched at the sound. 

Aziraphale laughed so hard that he fell over into the snow, even rolled around for a bit to regain his composure.

It was not long until Crowley found how contagious Aziraphale’s elation was and soon, they were both laughing so hard that the fir tree shook over them.

They tried to stop a few times, but then they saw the other and the laughter rose up again.

Crowley did not know how long they sat in the snow laughing. He didn’t even notice the cold anymore.

He just enjoyed the moment in its purest form until they both were entirely out of breath and the laughter slowly, reluctantly died down.

They stared at each other for a few moments afterwards, the sun catching in Aziraphale’s faceted eyes, making them sparkle in a myriad of colors like the freshly fallen snow.

Then, a thought occurred to Crowley.

Not breaking eye contact he smirked, and, quick as a snake, pelted Aziraphale with a snowball right in the face.

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment, uncomprehending, and then with a shout, he too bent down to make a snowball as retribution.

Crowley scrambled to his feet and bolted.

Their laughter came alive again as they chased each other through the vast expanses of snow, throwing snow at each other, sometimes without even bothering to form it into balls.

In his excitement, Crowley’s raven wings even popped out, to help him keep balance and give him the extra edge when he took a running jump to reach up to Aziraphale’s higher frame.

Crowley wasn’t sure how long they played in the snow like that, but in the end, Aziraphale tackled him to the ground and they rolled around in the snow for a couple of moments until they came to a stop, both their wings splayed out beneath them in the snow. One pair white, one black.

They lay there, catching their breaths and looking at the clouds pass by.

“That was the most fun I ever had,” said Aziraphale softly.

“Me too.”

A couple more moments passed, but then the snow really started to sink into Crowley’s bones and the snake in him gained the upper hand, making him shiver horribly.

Aziraphale noticed immediately, probably because Crowley was shaking so hard, his wings brushed against Aziraphale’s.

“We should go inside.”

Crowley tried to agree, but no real words came out, so all he managed was a shaky nod.

Aziraphale smiled softly and extended a hand.

Crowley smiled back and took it.

Together, they walked back to the castle and Crowley tried very hard not to think about the fact that Aziraphale had not let go of his hand.

When they got back, Aziraphale went to make them hot cocoa and Crowley shed his wet layers in front of the fire and wrapped himself in a blanket.

When Aziraphale came back, they curled up side by side on the couch and Aziraphale resumed with their reading.

Crowley fell asleep with a smile on his face.

\---

Crowley was back in the marble castle, back in that room.

It seemed like no time had passed at all, the blonde man still lay on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

He had tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Crowley tried to move closer but found that he could not move a single muscle. He just had to stand there, watching the man’s futile attempts at wiping away the tears from his eyes. He swallowed back sobs and his breathing was ragged and choked up.

Crowley’s heart broke at the sounds. He desperately wanted to console this man, this  _ stranger _ .

Crowley didn’t know how long the man laid there on the floor when he heard footsteps in the hall.

The blonde obviously had heard it too because he sat up and came to his feet as fast as he could, still wiping away at his tears to at least appear in better shape than he was.

When the purple-eyed man walked back into the room, he wasn’t alone.

He had brought his lackeys. A tall, stern woman and a balding man of small stature that had a nasty grin on his face.

They strode up to the blonde and seized him by both arms, keeping him locked in place like the ropes that had previously tied him to the chair.

The purple-eyed man stood self-assuredly in front of the blond, his hands clasped behind his back, a smug grin on his lips.

“I’ve devised the perfect curse for you. One not even you with your  _ filthy _ peasant magic can touch. In fact, you will not even have  _ access _ to that disgrace.”

The blonde’s eyes widened.

“Yes, it’s quite clever, don’t you agree?”

The short man on the blonde’s left side nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s very brilliant,” he agreed and his nasty smirk widened impossibly.

“Your curse,” the purple-eyed man continued. “will be quite lax actually. You will be accommodated, you can have my old place, I have no need for it. You will have enough food, though you will not need it. Maybe then you can actually learn to abstain from feeding like you do. It would do your gut some good.

“You will have time. Much time to think about everything you have done and come to the right conclusion about what you should do in the future. But ‘much time’ is not endless; I will give you your sword back, as timer so you can keep track of how much time of your life you’ve lost with your stupidity. Maybe this time you will not  _ lose  _ this precious artifact again.

“And when you have learned your lesson and are ready to come crawling back and apologize, then your curse might get lifted, because I am very generous like that.

“To break it you will only have to…”

Suddenly without any warning, everything went black around Crowley.

The last thing he heard was a shout of “Noooo” from the blond.

\---

Crowley snapped up and found himself still curled up next to Aziraphale and Aziraphale was shouting himself hoarse.

The “No” Crowley had heard had been what snapped him out of his dream and it hadn’t come from the blond inside his dream but from Aziraphale.

Crowley was immediately at Aziraphale’s side, gently trying to shake him out of whatever horror he was trapped in. But Aziraphale would not stop screaming and clawing at his fur covered torso with four sharp talons.

Crowley tried everything he could, but Aziraphale was in a frenzy and Crowley could not stop him from carving deep claw marks into his sides. Luckily, there was no blood, the thick fur stopped the worst of the damage, but Aziraphale’s claws managed to pull out tufts of hair, leaving angry red marks in their trail.

Crowley didn’t know what to do, so he wrapped his arms tight around all of Aziraphale, desperately holding him still before he could injure himself further.

“Aziraphale!”

Finally Aziraphale snapped out of his dream and stilled in Crowley’s arms.

Crowley held on, feeling the agitated rise and fall of Aziraphale’s chest.

“Crowley?”

“Everything is well, angel. I’ve got you.”

“Oh.”

After a few tense moments, Aziraphale slowly, but surely calmed down. Crowley was still hugging him tightly, too afraid to let go before he was sure Aziraphale would not hurt himself like that again.

“What were you dreaming about,” he whispered into the fur at Aziraphale’s neck, still not lightening his grip.

Aziraphale did not answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard Crowley, but Crowley hadn’t really expected an answer.

“The worst day of my life, I guess,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s hair.

Crowley’s eyes widened and he pulled back to stare at Aziraphale. But Aziraphale’s face was stony and betrayed nothing of the turmoil he had been in just moments prior.

Crowley stared into unblinking faceted eyes and did not know what to make of it all.

Looking into these unnatural eyes so deeply, when he could not even guess the thoughts behind them, was unnerving.

Crowley did not know what to do, how to act.

So he buried his face back into Aziraphale’s fur to escape the other’s gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The rest of the evening they spent unmoving, still uncomfortably tangled on that couch.

Silence wrapped around them like a heavy blanket and when the last embers of the fire died down, stillness and darkness completely engulfed them.

Neither of them slept that night.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. See you tomorrow :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds an unexplored corner of the castle

The atmosphere prevailed days after Aziraphale’s last dream.

Somehow, despite returning to their routine, the suffocating silence still clung to every surface.

Crowley was at loss. He did not know how he could help Aziraphale, not when the other wasn’t even talking with him. Also Crowley himself was in turmoil over his own dream.

Crowley didn’t know why he had such dreams about a man he had only once seen in a painting, but the dreams felt… real. Like they weren’t just dreams.

Prophetic dreams were not uncommon for magical beings, but prophetic dreams were different and they did not inspire the same hopeless feeling.

These dreams… visions?... were strange. Crowley couldn’t quite place them.

But it felt like Crowley had to do something… like he had to help.

The only thing he could think of was to go back into that room to that painting and maybe find more information about that blonde man.

A stranger Crowley only knew from a painting and yet he awoke the same feelings as Aziraphale. The same protectiveness, the same desire to be there for him, the same subtle tendrils of love.

It really wasn’t fair to Aziraphale that Crowley could only think of another person even when Aziraphale was in such a bad place. But Aziraphale wasn’t talking to Crowley and Crowley was torn.

Crowley also had no right to go back to that room. Not after what happened last time. And asking Aziraphale now seemed like the worst idea Crowley ever had.

Crowley did not know what to do.

He desperately wanted to curl up in a tight knot and sleep until the strange atmosphere had passed and their normal life was reinstated. Crowley missed hearing Aziraphale read to him. And he missed Aziraphale’s genuine laughter.

The day they had spent in the snow seemed impossibly far away despite it having happened on the same day as Aziraphale’s dream.

Instead, they had almost gone back to the time when Crowley wouldn’t even see Aziraphale. When they still had been strangers.

It left a bad taste in Crowley’s mouth, but he wouldn’t pressure Aziraphale to talk about it.

Crowley sat by the window and stared at the scenery outside.

The weather was fitting. It was gray and wet and cold and it had begun storming again.

It was as depressing as the atmosphere in the castle.

Crowley could not escape it.

He stood up. Wandering around the castle seemed like a better idea than to mope.

Aziraphale and he had finished reorganizing and cleaning up the place a few days before, so Crowley had already seen most of the castle in excruciating detail.

But there were still some corners unexplored. Mainly the west wing and the secret room behind a certain painting, but Crowley tried very hard not to think about it.

In his walk around the castle, Crowley came across a door not far from the kitchen.

It had looked like a lumber-room, so Crowley hadn’t previously paid attention to it. But now it inexplicably stood out against the rest of the hallway.

It was fairly small and it was tucked away in a corner, but the wood was beautifully carved, depicting all sorts of flowers and leaves.

Intrigued, Crowley went up to the door. It had a keyhole but when Crowley tried the handle it swung open with a quiet creak. 

A hallway stretched out behind the door. Crowley was too tall to be able to fit through it standing up. So, not knowing how far the hallway would go and unwilling to crouch the entire way, Crowley dropped down into his snake form and slithered along the path.

The pathway wasn’t lit at all, so Crowley had to rely on his night vision to find his way.

At the end, Crowley found another door. That one was locked, but the old wood already had some holes in it.

Crowley shifted his snake form to be smaller. He barely fit through but he made it work. Once again he really was grateful for his shifting prowess.

Once inside, Crowley was able to shift back and stand tall in his human form again.

He stood inside a greenhouse.

_ The _ greenhouse. “Eden” was what Aziraphale had called it.

It was huge. Some parts of it were completely overgrown while others held dried out plants, but Crowley could immediately recognize how beautiful it had been in its prime.

Sure it needed a lot of work, but the plants that had survived even without proper care were  _ fighters _ . Even in the midst of winter, they were greening as if the masses of snow outside the greenhouse were not even a nuisance.

And it was beautiful.

Eden indeed.

Crowley had always loved plants and this greenhouse was like a dream come true.

He walked through the middle aisle, carefully brushing over each leaf and he knew that he had found his calling.

He would not be able to leave this place until he restored “Eden” to its former glory. Not until he made sure the plants were properly taken care of and were blooming once again.

Crowley could almost see it in front of his mind’s eye. Another thing his vivid imagination gifted him.

He let a smile slide over his lips and rolled up his sleeves.

“Alright guys,” he addressed the plants. “Let’s get you sorted out.”

Immediately he went to work, weeding out the dried out plants, grooming the still growing ones, constructing supports for all the too heavy branches, repotting the ones that had outgrown their old ones.

He found a water source and a plant mister and watered all the plants.

Crowley didn’t know how much time he had spent inside Eden but at the end of it, the old greenhouse was unrecognizable. It looked as good as new.

Crowley wiped the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand, a huge grin on his face for a job well done.

The greenhouse now looked much more like the Garden of Eden with which it shared its name, even though it still had a long way to go.

“Listen up,” he addressed the plants as he wiped off his muddy hands. “I don’t know how many years you could slack off because there was no one looking after you, but that stops now. I’m the new boss around here and you will grow  _ better _ . Or there  _ will _ be consequences. I will take care of you now but I expect  _ results _ for my help. I will keep careful track of your growth and how much you bloom and if I don’t like what I see, I will dispose of you like I did with your dried out siblings. Are we understood?”

Crowley could almost hear a shiver run through the plants.

“Good,” he said and showed his canines in a manic grin.

\---

When Crowley returned back to the main castle after his trip to Eden, it was already dark outside.

Crowley had spent the whole day looking after the plants and he hadn’t spared a single thought to the blond man from the painting or a thought to Aziraphale’s nightmares. He had really needed that distraction to get his head clear again. He felt a bit more in control than before he had found Eden.

He returned back to the main room, expecting Aziraphale to be sitting there reading like always.

Aziraphale was sitting on their couch, as always.

But he was not reading.

No, he looked like he was trying to cry even though his insectile eyes would not allow that. He had such a look of sorrow in his eyes, that Crowley immediately hurried over to him.

He grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders, completely forgetting about the dirt still clinging to his hands because he had only brushed them off.

When he noticed how he had gotten dirt on Aziraphale’s pristine waistcoat, he panicked and hastily tried to clean the fabric but only making it worse with his dirty hands.

“So sorry, I forgot, I didn’t mean to-”

But Aziraphale wasn’t even listening, instead, he hauled Crowley closer and enveloped him in a four-armed hug so tight it stole Crowley’s air from his lungs.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered into his hair.

“Angel?” Crowley asked in response, awkwardly holding his hands away from Aziraphale’s coat to not ruin it further and so, not being able to hug back. “Is everything alright? Did something… happen? Was it a dream again?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

Silence fell between them but at least it wasn’t the same oppressing silence as before.

“Aziraphale?”

“I thought-” Aziraphale started but cut off.

Crowley remained silent, letting Aziraphale move at his own pace.

“I thought, I thought you were… gone,” Aziraphale was whispering, so quietly Crowley had to strain to catch it.

“Gone?”

“I thought you had left… You weren’t anywhere in the castle and I didn’t find you in the garden. I just… assumed you had left… for good. That I… was alone… again.”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“Aziraphale!” he exclaimed and tried to push back to see Aziraphale’s face, but the other held him tight in his four arms, not letting him move a single bit.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley tried again, but then deflated and let his arms sink down around Aziraphale’s shoulders, no longer caring about the clothing, just hugging him back just as tight.

“Angel,” Crowley said softly, “I won’t just leave like that. I’m here.”

Aziraphale hugged him impossibly tighter; Crowley was pretty sure he heard his spine crack, but it wasn’t important at the moment. 

Silence wrapped around them like a heavy blanket, warm and soft and comfortable.

When the last embers of the fireplace died down and darkness engulfed them, Crowley closed his eyes. He just sighed and let himself be held and held Aziraphale in response.

They both slept that night, tangled in each other’s limbs, unmoving but comfortable,  _ dreamless _ .

\---

The next morning Crowley explained to Aziraphale where he had been and Aziraphale was happy he found himself a hobby with the plants.

Aziraphale himself was a bit too big to fit through the small hallway, so Crowley wasn’t able to show him his work, but Aziraphale just smiled and replied that he’d never had much of a green thumb and would leave the plants to Crowley.

So Crowley spent the next days alternating time between the greenhouse and reading with Aziraphale.

It was nice when Aziraphale no longer thought that Crowley had abandoned him. It was more than nice, actually. Crowley was now convinced he had actually been eaten by wolves and had gone to his own personal heaven that fateful day. Aziraphale just laughed in response and called him a ‘silly old serpent’. Crowley liked the sound of that.

“You know,” Aziraphale said one day during their reading hours. “Christmas is coming up. Do you think we should… I don’t know, do something for it? It’s been… a while since I actually celebrated Christmas.”

And Crowley, who had never really celebrated Christmas his entire life, immediately replied: “Sure, angel. Let’s do that.”

Then he actually had to ask what celebrating would entail, but Aziraphale was just so enthusiastic about it to explain everything to him. And that enthusiasm was contagious; soon Crowley was just as eager for Christmas as Aziraphale was.

In the greenhouse he had found a few mini spruce trees, trees that according to Aziraphale played a big role during Christmas. So Crowley set out to make one of them stand out above all else and be worthy to be adorned with Christmas tree decorations.

While Crowley took care of the tree, Aziraphale volunteered to prepare a hall, clean it and decorate it. Crowley then said he would prepare the food, since the little spruce would grow all on its own, Aziraphale readily agreed.

Aziraphale really wanted to make a big deal out of this holiday and Crowley had nothing against it. It was still a few weeks away, but the atmosphere had most definitely changed for the better, especially compared to the few days of silence after Aziraphale’s last bad dream.

Aziraphale had also mentioned that people gave each other presents for Christmas, but Crowley had immediately known what he would gift Aziraphale. He could not wait to be able to give it to the other and see his reaction.

The next weeks, Crowley spent his time gardening and baking while Aziraphale buzzed around the castle like a happy fly to dandify the whole place. But at the end of the day, they both came back to the fireplace and spent their evenings cuddled together on the couch, reading and sometimes drinking wine.

Crowley had only recently found out what a delight lightly sloshed Aziraphale was. They talked about everything and nothing, philosophizing about the most absurd topics.

It was pleasant and peaceful. Quiet but happy.

Crowley couldn’t wait for Christmas.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Christmas is just over, but, in my defense, when I wrote the next chapter, the Christmas season was still going strong. That's why tomorrow's chapter will be the Ineffable Husbands celebrating Christmas!  
> Thank you for reading! See you tomorrow!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for more than a thousand hits and more than a hundred kudos!!!!  
> I have never expected that kind of positive response to my fic!!  
> I even got art from people other than my official artists (which I will link in a later chapter if I get the permission)!!!  
> I am really grateful for all your love!  
> Please, enjoy an extra-long chapter of Christmas fluff!

“Crowley, my dear, could you maybe help me for a moment?”

Aziraphale knocked on Crowley’s door. Crowley usually spent little time in his room, they spent their nights tangled together on the couch in the main room more often than not, but during one of his scavenging trips around the castle Crowley had found clothes that could fit him and Aziraphale had said Crowley could have them.

He had to tailor them a bit to fit his needs, but Crowley had always been good with his hands so it was no problem at all.

Both Aziraphale and he had wanted to dress up for Christmas. Especially Crowley because he wore the same clothes almost constantly since they had been the only thing he’d taken with him when he’d stumbled across the castle in the woods.

Crowley, clad only in his trousers and a light undershirt, opened his door and immediately closed it behind him. He didn’t really want Aziraphale to see all the clothes thrown haphazardly on the bed because Crowley couldn’t decide what to wear.

Aziraphale was wearing a different waistcoat than usual. It was more of an ochre color and he wore a cream-colored coat above it. The colors suited him, they accentuated his creamy white fur. Crowley tried not to stare.

In his hands, Aziraphale was holding what appeared to be a tartan cloth, maybe a cravat. He was fidgeting, looking down at the fabric.

“Angel?”

“If it’s not too much of a bother, my dear boy, I need some help,” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Could you be a dear and tie my bow? It’s my favorite and I’d hate to ruin it with these... claws like so many others.”

“Of course.”

Crowley stepped closer and gently took the fabric out of Aziraphale’s hands.

“I’m not sure how to tie a bow though… could you help me as well?”

Crowley laid the cloth around Aziraphale’s neck, careful not to mess up Aziraphale’s collar.

Aziraphale told Crowley the necessary steps, but Crowley kept messing up the tie, he was too distracted by how close they were standing, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from the other, so close their breaths were mingling.

Crowley had been close to Aziraphale before, they had been sleeping cuddled together more often than he could count, but somehow, this was  _ different _ . It was new.

It felt like… more.

Crowley was painfully aware of the proximity between them, he could hear his own heartbeat thrumming fast and beneath the tips of his fingers, he could feel Aziraphale’s heart beating the same dizzying rhythm.

It would be so easy, so incredibly easy to just lean down and… kiss him. Crowley would barely have to move.

Were they coming closer together already?

By now, Crowley’s eyes had left the piece of fabric in his fingers, no longer caring how often his hands slipped up and how often he had tied and untied the bow.

Instead, Crowley’s eyes were lost in Aziraphale’s faceted ones.

Now that they were standing so close, Crowley could see that Aziraphale was just slightly taller and that his faceted eyes were  _ blue _ .

They shone in all shades of blue that ever existed, but most prominent of all was a gorgeous cerulean. The pure cerulean blue of the sky or of the calm sea.

Crowley could drown in those eyes.

Neither of them had moved for a while now, not even caring that Crowley’s fingers abandoned the task they set out to do.

Amber drowned in cerulean, cerulean lost itself in amber.

The moment between them was electric.

Crowley’s hand moved on its own accord and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, the tie slipping to the ground, forgotten.

It would be so easy to just... move, close the barely a breath wide space between them.

So easy… 

And yet.

Somehow, Crowley remembered himself.

He didn’t know what snapped him out of his trance. He didn’t know what it was that triggered his brain to restart and  _ think _ again.

_ What was he doing? _

Aziraphale had asked for him to tie a bow, not…

What if Aziraphale wasn’t interested in things like… kissing? He had never made any suggestion that he’d like to try… kissing and especially not with  _ Crowley _ . And he was a moth after all. How would that even work?

Besides, how long did they know each other? He and Aziraphale were not… They were  _ friends. _ What if Crowley was moving too fast?

And what about those nightmares, the ones he refused to talk to Crowley about? Didn’t that imply that he did not… trust Crowley?

And what about Crowley’s own dreams? What about the blonde from the painting, the one Crowley had felt the same things for as he did for Aziraphale. The one he wasn’t sure was  _ safe _ after that last dream.

Besides, what if Crowley misunderstood something? He’d never ever had a friend after all, what if this, cuddling and sharing time together and talking, what if it was all just normal friend’s behavior?

What if, what if, what if?

The spell between them was broken, even Aziraphale noticed it, because he let out a breath that brushed against Crowley’s cheeks and snapped him out of his stupor.

Crowley averted his eyes from the cerulean oceans he’d been drowning in. He bent down and picked the tie off the ground.

Almost reverently, he tied the fabric into a beautiful bow around Aziraphale’s neck and this time, his fingers did not mess up.

He patted Aziraphale’s chest when he was done, his fingers remaining there, just to prolong their contact.

Aziraphale let out a breath again and Crowley’s focus snapped back to his face.

Aziraphale smiled at him, a beautiful angelic smile.

Then he bent down and kissed Crowley on the cheek.

“Thank you, my dear.”

Then, Aziraphale turned around and left.

Crowley stood alone in front of his closed door, holding his cheek that was still tingling from an angel’s kiss.

\---

His heart was beating as if he had run a marathon and he was sure that if he had still been human, his whole face would have been as red as a tomato.

Aziraphale hurried away from Crowley as fast as he could without appearing like he was running away. He wasn’t! He was just… tactfully retreating.

What had he been thinking, kissing Crowley’s cheek like that?

But Aziraphale hadn’t been thinking. Not at all. He stopped thinking in general while he was in Crowley’s vicinity.

Crowley had been trying to put distance between them when Aziraphale had kissed him, and yet Aziraphale had still gone ahead, without even asking first.

As if Crowley would want a kiss from a beast like Aziraphale. That’s what Aziraphale had to keep in mind, even if his mind refused to work properly since meeting Crowley. That he was a  _ beast. _

Maybe it still was the last shred of  _ hope _ that Aziraphale was still clinging to, despite everything. As if… as if his curse could be broken.

_ “And when you have learned your lesson and are ready to come crawling back and apologize, then your curse might get lifted, because I am very generous like that,”  _ Gabriel had said that horrible day.

_ “To break it you will only have to burn those precious books of yours, every single one of them. To show how deeply you regret your actions and that you are willing to change, to walk the  _ right _ path. _

_ Hmm, but then again I guess there could be one more way. Like in your books! Isn’t that nonsense called “true love’s kiss” in books? Isn’t that supposed to lift all curses? Don’t you believe in that sort of fairy tale? You could always  _ try  _ to find someone, anyone, who you’d love and who’d love  _ you _ in return. Maybe you’re lucky and it really does lift all curses! Oh, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Just look at you now, you’re already disgustingly soft, and with a curse on top of that? Who would  _ ever _ love something like that?” _

Aziraphale could still hear Gabriel’s triumphant laughter and how Sandalphon and Uriel had joined in too. He had dreamed of that day more times than he could count. The last time had been the worst, he hadn’t even been able to hide it from Crowley how much that dream, that memory, had affected him. How much Gabriel’s voice still haunted him, every moment of his days.

Gabriel had been right, of course, fairy tales stayed fairy tales, no matter how much one believed. But deep inside, Aziraphale couldn’t help but cling to that single shred of hope, that last feeble string that kept him from having to face the reality that he’d spend the rest of his days as a _ moth _ .

Besides, “true love’s kiss” really did only exist in fairy tales. And even if it did exist, Crowley - the only person Aziraphale could possibly imagine loving - did not love Aziraphale in return,  _ could _ not ever love him in return.

There was no way, why would he? Aziraphale wasn't even human.

Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts, it was easy, so very very easy, to imagine his future like that. That one day, Crowley would kiss Aziraphale despite everything and that Aziraphale would transform back into a human and Crowley would accept him even like… that, and then they could spend the rest of their days together and Aziraphale would never have to fear for his books again.

But even in Aziraphale’s fantasies that future seemed impossible.

Instead, Aziraphale knew what lay ahead. He had dreamed of that too so many times he lost count. Because no matter how much he tried to push the thought away, no matter how much he tried to distract himself by celebrating  _ Christmas _ of all things, by spending his time with Crowley in calm bliss, no matter what he did, eventually there would be a day when his flame went out.

Because even a flaming sword would not burn forever.

Aziraphale shook his head. He could not think like that. He hadn’t taken Crowley in just to… “use” him to break Aziraphale’s curse. ‘True love’s kiss’… was not real. Aziraphale’s curse was not... breakable, not if he didn’t burn all of his books. 

Besides, it was Christmas and Aziraphale really should not think about these things on such a day. He wanted to be happy today, he  _ would _ be happy.

And he would show Crowley all the joys of the holiday.

Aziraphale smiled.

Yes, his curse could be forgotten for as long as Crowley was around. For now, it was Christmas and Aziraphale had to make the last preparations to the room.

It would be  _ perfect _ .

\---

When Christmas Eve came around, Crowley was beside himself from anticipation.

He had spent the whole day preparing food while Aziraphale had decorated the room.

They would be celebrating Christmas in the fireplace room, since they always were there. Crowley had already brought the mini spruce tree into the room a few days before and Aziraphale had immediately fitted it with colorful baubles.

Crowley didn’t know what else Aziraphale had done because he hadn’t been allowed into the room for two days now.

Aziraphale had said he wanted to surprise Crowley and had ushered him out of the room.

Crowley had begrudgingly stayed away, even if his curiosity nagged at him. Instead he had occupied himself with cooking and shouting at his plants, or “gardening” as he liked to call it.

But despite his curiosity about Aziraphale’s decorations, the real anticipation came from the presents.

Aziraphale had hinted that he had found something for Crowley and Crowley was dying to know what it was. He had thought about his own present. He had deemed it perfect before, but now he was questioning it.

What if it was too much?

But now that he was already dressed and ready, it was too late to find something else.

Crowley tried not to think about how Aziraphale was dressed - or at least not think about the particular bow tied around Aziraphale’s neck - lest Crowley would look like a tomato during his first real Christmas. 

Crowley could still feel the ghost of Aziraphale’s kiss on his cheek. He could still feel the gentle brush of Aziraphale’s fur, the beating of Aziraphale’s heart under his fingertips, the warm sensation of Aziraphale’s breath on his skin.

Crowley shook his head, he told himself, again, not to think about it, then he knocked on the door to the main room.

“Just a tick, my dear,” came Aziraphale’s voice from inside.

Crowley nodded to himself and looked down at his clothes for the millionth time that hour.

He was wearing a black tux with a deep red undershirt. He too had wound a cravat around his neck in a matching black. He had forgone a pair of sunglasses this time. After all this time spent in the castle, he didn’t feel like he needed that extra layer to hide his eyes anymore. By now, he was also berating himself for not taking more of his stuff with him, when he ran away from his pack. He hadn’t really expected to find a…  _ home _ , at least not so soon. Crowley had expected to be on the run for most of the winter, and had therefore only taken the clothes on his back, not that he would find a place where he could be so domestic.

His hair had grown out in the months he had now spent in the castle, even if Crowley could barely believe it had already been so long. He had tied his hair together with a loose half-bun that framed his face very elegantly and kept his hair out of his eyes.

Crowley looked  _ good _ , realistically he knew that, but he still couldn’t help but fret. He didn’t want to look just “fine”, he wanted to impress Aziraphale.

But again, by now it was too late to change anything.

Crowley heard hurried little steps as Aziraphale scurried around the room and then, finally, the door opened.

Aziraphale really had transformed the room. He had cleared away the bookshelves to open up the whole area leading to the fireplace.

The fire was ablaze but around the room, Aziraphale had put up fairy lights that made the room look like it was alight with  _ stars _ .

Crowley’s spruce tree stood on a table that was already set as if Aziraphale expected royal guests.

The whole hall looked beautiful.

But Crowley’s eyes were drawn to a different sight. Aziraphale had already hurried back toward the table. He stood there amidst the stars, framed by the light of the fireplace and the candles upon the table.

He was  _ by far _ the most gorgeous sight in the room and Crowley could not avert his gaze.

“The only thing missing is the food,” said Aziraphale and wrung his hands fretfully. “But, does it look… alright?”

“Angel, it’s beautiful,” answered Crowley and he swallowed down the “ _ You’re _ beautiful.”

Crowley’s eyes could not help but to stray a bit downwards, the tartan bow caught his eye and of course Crowley could immediately feel his face warm up, the place where Aziraphale had kissed him was close to burning.

Crowley quickly turned away. He would not make an embarrassment of himself now!

“I’ll get the food, just wait a second,” he stammered out and fled the room.

In the kitchen he managed to calm down a bit but he dreaded that he would be just as… “smooth” the whole evening long.

Quickly he grabbed the biggest pot, in his flustered state almost forgetting to use a cloth to touch the hot surface.

When Crowley returned to the main room, he found Aziraphale right where he had left him, wringing his four hands fretfully.

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

Aziraphale looked up. “What? Oh, yes. Everything is quite fine, absolutely tickety-boo!”

“Tickety-boo?”

Aziraphale ignored him and instead went to take the pot off Crowley’s hands.

“Careful, angel! It’s hot!”

“Not to fret, with my fur, I hardly feel any heat at all,” Aziraphale answered and carried the pot to the table.

“What did you make?” He asked and went to open the lid.

Crowley immediately reacted and pushed the lid back down.

“Just wait a moment, angel. That’s not all and if you could make a surprise from how you decorated the room, I can make a surprise of what food I prepared.”

Aziraphale smiled at him and Crowley could feel his heart beating in his throat.

He went back to the kitchen for a couple of times until he had brought all the pots and bowls he had prepared to the table.

Aziraphale had sat down by now and was watching Crowley attentively as Crowley served up a multitude of different salads in bowls and then opened the pot to reveal a vegetable stew.

“It smells delicious,” Aziraphale said.

“I sure hope so, everything is from the greenhouse, from Eden if you will. I made sure the plants weren’t slacking off, but if anything tastes bad, just tell me; I will reprimand them for you.”

Aziraphale laughed his beautiful, angelic laugh.

“Reprimand the plants? Why would you do that?”

“Apparently they grow better if you talk to them! And it works, I tested it!”

“I think reprimanding them is not the same as talking, my dear,” Aziraphale laughed again and Crowley had to avert his gaze and wipe the silly grin off his face before he continued.

“Yeah, so this is the main course; later there’s some dessert too, so leave some room for that.”

“My dear boy, dessert is not something you need to leave room for! One is never too full for dessert!”

Aziraphale smiled at him and Crowley grinned back.

They spent the meal in relative silence, or well, almost. Aziraphale made his customary happy noises at the food and Crowley could barely eat because he could not tear his eyes off the enjoyment in Aziraphale’s face.

Afterwards they stayed seated for quite a while, talking about plants and cooking and Christmas and everything else they could think of.

The conversation flowed easily and when Crowley brought out the Christmas pudding, Aziraphale’s eyes lit up as if Crowley had brought out the world’s finest treasure.

“My dear, that calls for some nice, red wine, don’t you think?”

At Crowley’s confirmation, Aziraphale hurried out of the room and soon came back with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

He poured them both a glass and they resumed their conversation until Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed:

“I almost forgot the presents! No Christmas without presents! I have to give it now, before I get too drunk to properly gift them!”

“You got me multiple presents, angel?”

“Well, technically it can count as one, but I really do hope you’ll like it!”

Aziraphale disappeared for a moment before reappearing carrying a neatly wrapped package. He gingerly placed it in Crowley’s hands.

“Here you go, my dear, open it.”

“Don’t you want to get your present too, first?”

Aziraphale looked up, surprised. “You got me a gift?”

“Of course I did, angel. Why did you think I wouldn’t? You told me that gifts are an essential part of Christmas, are they not?” Crowley reached into the inner pocket of his tux and placed a small, not quite as neatly wrapped object in Aziraphale’s outstretched palms.

Aziraphale nodded in answer to the rhetorical question.

“They are… But… no one has gotten me a Christmas present since my parents died,” he whispered.

Crowley felt a pang in his chest and immediately went to wrap the big moth in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, angel. I hope you’ll like it, I know it’s not much. But please, do open it.”

“I,” Aziraphale struggled to say. “You- I mean, we should do it… together. Like simultaneously?”

“Would you like that, angel?”

Aziraphale nodded; Crowley felt the movement more than he actually saw it since he was still holding Aziraphale in his arms.

“Then, let's do that.”

Crowley extracted himself, very reluctantly and looked at his present.

“Should I do a countdown?”

Aziraphale chuckled softly, it sounded a bit wet but not unhappy. Crowley took his silence as a yes.

“Alright, 3, 2, 1! Open!”

Crowley quickly tore through the wrapping paper while Aziraphale opened his present very carefully as if he did not want to harm the packaging.

“You don’t need to be so careful angel, the paper is not the most important part and my wrapping job really wasn’t the best.”

Aziraphale just smiled but did not go any faster.

Inevitably, Crowley held his opened present sooner in his hands.

It was a record for a gramophone. There was no inscription as to what music was on it, just a label where Aziraphale had written “Merry Christmas, my dear!” in beautiful calligraphy.

“Is it okay?” Aziraphale asked anxiously.

Crowley just laughed and put a hand on Aziraphale’s reassuringly. 

“It’s perfect, angel. I love music and I can’t wait to hear it, though I can’t judge your taste in music before I heard it,” he joked.

“Tell me what you think first.”

But Aziraphale didn’t answer. He was staring at the small object he had cradled in all of his four palms, even if it could easily fit into just one. He held it as if Crowley had stolen all the stars off the sky for him. Not, that Crowley wouldn’t do that, if given the chance.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I love it, my dear! But… but that’s too much!”

“It’s just a piece of jewelry.”

Aziraphale looked at him skeptically.

“You know, I am no shifter, but I am well versed in a variety of magicks. I myself hav-, had two sources of magic. This is not just a piece of jewelry.”

Aziraphale held up a golden ring. It was intricately designed, at the sides, the ring had little angel wings framing the signet in the center of the ring. The signet held a crest that had a stylized lion on its hind legs. But it was not the carvings that had made Aziraphale hold the ring up.

“Can you explain it to me, my dear? I am not entirely familiar with the magic of shifters.”

Crowley looked down at the floor, it had been hard enough to gift the ring to Aziraphale but explaining the symbolism, the  _ meaning  _ too? He could feel his face heat up, for the hundredth time that evening.

“It’s, it’s a signet ring. It’s a, a tradition in my pack, well, in all shifter packs, really, to gift such a ring to a person that is… very dear to us. It’s a sign of good luck and well, protection.”

Crowley did not mention that the symbolic signet ring was most commonly used as an engagement ring or even wedding ring due to its high power and special meaning. He did not mention that it was a  _ bonding ring _ .

“You didn’t explain the magic in it to me, my dear boy. I am so very curious.”

“It’s, well it’s forged out of two pieces from my two forms, one of each, I mean. Uhm, a raven feather, for the wings, even… even if that makes them technically not angel wings anymore, if they are black at their core. But I only have black feathers as an option. And then there’s a scale from my snake form as a sort of base? For the emblem, the crest. I took one from my belly, because I did not want to make the whole ring black… at its core. So the red compliments the black and then they are used as a sort of magical base for the whole ring.”

Crowley did not mention that he had taken a scale from right over his heart and the biggest, fluffiest, softest, shiniest feather he had found in his plumage.

“Oh and the plants ranking around the signet part were originally from the leaves from the plants in the greenhouse.”

Crowley could not look Aziraphale in the eyes when the other looked up from the ring.

“How is it, that the ring is golden? You talked about its base colors, but I don’t see much color here….?”

“Well just a feather, a scale and some leaves don’t make a ring. They had to be bound to an existing piece of jewelry, the colors I talked about are the colors of the magic, the ring itself is just a family heirloom.”

“ _ ‘Just _ a family heirloom’? You can’t give me such a thing, it’s too much! I’m not w-... I’m just… me…”

“Angel, it’s because it’s you. It’s something one gives to someone dear. You are very dear to me, that’s all the reason needed. You don’t get to choose what you are gifted.”

Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s gaze bore into his skull but pointedly ignored it. Instead, he gently placed his hand on Aziraphale’s and gently pushed his claws to close around the ring.

“It’s yours now.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“I can’t put it on though,” he suddenly said. “It’s much too small for my… claws…”

“You don’t have to wear it. But you could put it on a necklace or maybe your pinky… claw is small enough. I’m sorry, I did not have your measurements and even if I had, I had no alternative ring to bind the magic to.”

“I want to wear it. Could  _ you _ … try to put it on my pinky?”

Crowley took the ring out of Aziraphale’s palms and gently took one of his right hands.

The ring fit perfectly.

Crowley let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and tried not to think about the bow tie around Aziraphale’s neck. They were just as close as they had been then and Crowley’s heart tried to break free from its constraints.

The air almost crackled like lightning between them.

Then, Aziraphale stepped back. He laughed nervously. The change in atmosphere was so sudden, Crowley almost got whiplash from it.

“You know, you have to give me back that record now?” Aziraphale asked with a weird undertone in his voice.

“What? Why?”

“It really is too little compared to what you’ve given me,” Aziraphale admitted. “I should have gotten something better, something more… serious… something that carried as much feeling as your present did.This record… it’s not… not the same. I wasn’t expecting a gift in return, so I thought I’d get you something small and easy, so that you could take it as a… well, as a sort of joke, if you didn’t like it. But you gave me something so much more special than a… a joke gift.”

“Oh, oh,  _ angel _ . I told you, it was perfect. I’m not giving it back. And I won’t let you talk like that, that gift, it means more to you than just to play it off as a joke, I know that. If you wanted a joke, you could have given me anything, you could even have claimed the decorated room to be the gift to me. But you didn’t! Now... I explained your ring to you. Please, explain to me why you picked a record?”

Aziraphale stared at the ring on his pinky finger. He took a long time to answer.

“Have you… have you ever danced? With someone I mean? Or alone, too?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I- I had wanted to dance with you,” Aziraphale’s voice dropped to a whisper. “A dance together on Christmas eve. That’s why I picked the music.”

Crowley’s eyes softened.

“Angel, I’d love to dance with you, music or not. But- but I have to disappoint you… I’ve never danced in my entire life. I don’t think you would want to dance with my two left feet…”

That seemed to cheer Aziraphale up a little, he looked up at Crowley briefly before letting his gaze rest on the ring once more.

“I don’t mind at all, we could still try it, I think? I bet you are a better dancer than you think and sharing a dance with you would mean I haven’t given you a… useless present.”

Crowley knew Aziraphale couldn’t see it because he was still too focussed on his new ring, but he let a reassuring smile light up his face and stepped closer to Aziraphale again.

Crowley held out his hand.

“Can I have this dance with you?”

Aziraphale hesitantly took Crowley’s hand.

“Let’s try it without music first, I don’t want to embarrass myself too much. But I fear that you will have to lead this dance; I have no idea what to do.”

Aziraphale’s smile was positively blinding as it lit up his face.

At first it was a tangle of what hands should go where, seeing as they had six hands in total to work out. In the end, Aziraphale put two hands around Crowley’s waist, another one on his shoulder and the last hand held Crowley’s. Crowley’s second hand, in turn, rested lightly on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

They took a few hesitant steps and Aziraphale tried to explain the moves to Crowley and Crowley was way too focused on looking at his feet to make them do their job properly to even notice the proximity between them.

It was fun, no doubt about that, but Crowley had problems with the steps and his clumsy feet. Crowley stepped on Aziraphale’s toes more often than he would like before he finally put a stop to the disaster that was his dancing skills.

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t lie about my inability to dance,” Crowley admitted, more than a little red from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry for your toes…”

“Nonsense, my dear. That was wonderful, music or no, especially for your first try. It has been years since I danced and I haven’t been the best lead either. I am only glad, I could try it… with you.”

“Of course! The pleasure was all mine, even though I haven’t been the greatest partner for your first dance in years… Maybe you could show me? How you dance, I mean?”

“Alone?”

“Well, with music this time, maybe? But I want to see you have fun, without me stepping on your toes… and maybe I will learn this way!”

When Aziraphale put on the music, it was fun and cheerful and happy.

Aziraphale gladly showed Crowley a dance called “the Gavotte”, which was apparently Aziraphale’s favorite dance, even if it usually was for groups.

Aziraphale showed Crowley other dance moves too and Crowley could not pull his eyes away from the huge, dazzling smile on Aziraphale’s face the entire time. He would do anything to protect that gorgeous smile.

In the end, they tried dancing together a few more times, but every time turned out to be as disastrous as the first, even with the added music.

But each time, Aziraphale only laughed and smiled and showed Crowley again and again until they were both tired from dancing and Aziraphale switched the music to something softer, quieter.

After more wine, they opened Christmas crackers, which contained the worst jokes ever and a needlessly long and convoluted anecdote about a bird sharpening its beak on a mountain every thousand years until the mountain was gone, which Crowley and Aziraphale heatedly debated until they couldn’t stop laughing about birds and mountains and the sound of music and dolphins and Kraken and whatever else their slightly too drunken minds came up with.

Then they ate more of the desert and played a round of chess or five, even if they did not keep score about who broke what rules because the other one distracted him.

At the end of the night, they retreated back onto the familiar couch in front of the fireplace and Aziraphale read the Christmas Carol to Crowley. Aziraphale had pulled off his bow tie in the course of the evening and Crowley had unbuttoned the top of his shirt as they relaxed.

Aziraphale’s ring was glinting in the dying fire’s light as they fell asleep curled into one another as they often did, content and happy. At home.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw as for Crowley's look:  
> think book!crowley (with the red shirt), but also his asking for holy water victorian look:  
> [that hairstyle(!!)](https://hotcorn-cdn.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/5/2019/05/31124406/Good-Omens-intervista-michael-sheen-2.jpg) and [a bit of that outfit, specifically the cravat](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f85c69f4b7b14db1491a057ebc567b2d/tumblr_polay5p2xs1watnymo1_1280.jpg)
> 
> So this chapter was very fluffy, wasn't it?  
> Now get ready for the angst train departure starting in the next chapter ;P


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale learns some truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome all, the angst train is departing, everyone on board!

They spent New Year’s Eve quietly on their couch, watching the snowfall outside with steaming hot cocoa in their hands and keeping their eyes peeled on the old grandfather clock that Aziraphale had transported into the room next to the fireplace for the occasion.

Or at least they did, until Aziraphale brought out champagne and some bottles of wine and they proceeded to get absolutely hammered. And as always, they had the most bizarre conversations after a few glasses.

Crowley didn’t remember much of the absurd topics they discussed, but they had also talked about family and home and the people in their lives.

They didn’t talk about anything too deep or profound, but Crowley learned that Aziraphale had something like a boss - not that Crowley in his drunken stupor remembered to think about the implications of a giant moth having a  _ boss _ \- that he didn’t like at all and that Crowley would very much like to have a word with just for making Aziraphale upset.

They didn’t talk much about Crowley’s pack, or not as far as he could recall, but when Aziraphale mentioned his boss’ “henchmen” Uriel and Sandalphon or something, Crowley couldn’t help but think of Hastur and Ligur and the whole reason he had landed in the castle in the first place. And when the grandfather clock finally announced the new year, Crowley held up his glass and toasted to “Letting go of the past - provided it doesn't manage to kill me first!”, still thinking of the day he had run from his pack.

In hindsight, even drunk, Crowley should have noticed the change in Aziraphale immediately.

Aziraphale went quiet after Crowley’s toast, but Crowley paid it little mind. Instead, he asked Aziraphale for his resolutions for the new year.

“I want to guard all that I love from any harm,” was Aziraphale’s somber response and Crowley cheerfully drank on that.

But the next morning the quiet mood prevailed and when Crowley awoke late in the afternoon with a blinding headache and little recollection of the night before, he was alone in the main room.

Crowley noticed the change in the atmosphere but it was not the same oppressing feeling as it had been after Aziraphale’s worst nightmare to date, so Crowley didn’t think much about it. It seemed only natural that after the cheerful mood of the holidays the stillness of the castle would feel alien.

Instead of dwelling on it, Crowley decided to use the opportunity given him by Aziraphale’s new habit of disappearing somewhere in the castle after each of their meals together.

After Christmas, Crowley had made a resolution. He wanted to learn to dance for his angel so that the next time they tried dancing, he wouldn’t be so clumsy and so Aziraphale would not think that his Christmas gift was not precious to Crowley.

When they had cleaned up the main room after Christmas, Crowley had purloined the record player and set it up inside the greenhouse. The greenhouse was after all the only place Aziraphale couldn’t follow him into, even if Crowley had seen little of the other in the days after New Year’s Eve. There, in Eden, Crowley could properly prepare for his surprise.

\---

Aziraphale paced around his room nervously, the flickering flames of his sword mirroring his anxious movements.

He could be wrong, he could have misunderstood.

He could be jumping to conclusions, it’s what he did. And the last time he had… well, it hadn’t ended well.

But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling. He knew something bad was coming.

Aziraphale played with the ring on his finger, the ring Crowley had given him.

Aziraphale could feel the magic even if he couldn’t see it. He knew how powerful it was even if Crowley tried to play it off as something small.

The ring was like a little star, it’s magic shone so brightly it could rival the sun’s intensity.

And Aziraphale knew, he knew, he knew.

… Or at least he thought he knew. Aziraphale paced.

He could be mistaken. He could have interpreted something wrong.

It didn’t have to be like that. It could be-

But no. He was sure of it.

And there was the other matter of “Hastur” and “Ligur”. These names meant  _ something _ and it wasn’t good. And Aziraphale knew that it was all connected.

He knew he knew he knew.

Aziraphale had always hated sleeping, and now, with his frequent nightmares, more than ever. But Aziraphale had to. He knew it in his core.

He knew something bad was  _ coming _ .

And its name was  _ Gabriel _ .

Aziraphale sighed. He could not escape it, not with all his pacing.

He stepped towards the little couch. It was so covered in papers and books that it wasn’t recognizable as such, but four hands were useful for something at least.

When the couch was free again, Aziraphale lied down. He tossed and turned and tossed again. But it was inevitable.

The last thing Aziraphale saw was slight flickering as the light of his flaming sword dimmed a little more, then, everything faded to black.

\---

Aziraphale sat through a familiar nightmare. He looked around the white marble walls of the palace. He tried his hardest to look bored. But it was difficult, so difficult, when right in front of him his younger self broke down as he heard about the promise of his curse.

He tried shutting Gabriel’s cruel voice out, but the words still echoed, reverberated through Aziraphale’s head. He would never be rid of them.

Not for as long as he was cursed.

_ “To break it you will only have to burn those precious books of yours, every single one of them. To show how deeply you regret your actions and that you are willing to change, to walk the  _ right _ path. _

_ Hmm, but then again I guess there could be one more way. Like in your books! Isn’t that nonsense called “true love’s kiss” in books? Isn’t that supposed to lift all curses? Don’t you believe in that sort of fairy tale? You could always  _ try  _ to find someone, anyone, who you’d love and who’d love  _ you _ in return. Maybe you’re lucky and it really does lift all curses! Oh, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Just look at you now, you’re already disgustingly soft, and with a curse on top of that? Who would  _ ever _ love something like that?” _

Again and again and again.

How many times had he had that dream? That nightmare?

How many times more would he have to watch, night after night after night.

But even after all this time, it was weird to see himself as an outsider watching. It was weird seeing his own, tear stricken face, still so painfully human, still so painfully naive. Still thinking that Gabriel would not go through with his promise, his threat. Still so hopeful, that it wouldn’t last.

“Can you get on with it? You must be bored of it too by now. How many times have you seen this now?” Aziraphale spoke to his crying younger self. He tried to look bored and even if he could never convince himself, maybe, just maybe, he could fool his tormentor.

Aziraphale’s younger self flickered then shimmered then dissolved into the grinning face of the head of the Cleric Order.

“Hel-lo, Aziraphale. Long time no see,” said Gabriel and his sickly sweet smirk made shivers run over Aziraphale’s skin.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, no need to be so bitter, sunshine. You know exactly what to do to end… all of this...,” Gabriel gestured to Aziraphale’s body. “...in an instant.”

“ _ What _ do you want, Gabriel?”

But Gabriel ignored him.

“Just a simple little thing and you could go back to living with the luxuries of the order. Don’t you miss it? How long has it been since you’ve felt the full extent of your  _ magic _ ?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer.

“Didn’t think so,” Gabriel sneered and straightened. “I wouldn’t have had to curse you if it were that easy to turn you around.

“Ah, and what a bother that is. Having to keep you there, providing  _ food _ and  _ drink _ and all sorts of stuff just to accommodate a single worthless,  _ soft _ nobody who foolishly played around with impure magic despite having  _ everything _ . But nooo, you just had to be greedy. You couldn’t live with what you had. You had to have two sources of power. A  _ duality. _ ” He spat the word.

“A disgrace to your god-given abilities. Mixing divinity with something as frivolous as filthy peasant books.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply. He didn’t even move a muscle.

Despite having heard this speech time and time again since his curse it still cut deep.

But Gabriel had to give his speech every time he checked up on Aziraphale.

And despite everything, before Crowley had arrived, Aziraphale had looked forward to each and every one of the check-ups.

Because for a long long time, it had been the only time Aziraphale had human contact in his isolation in the castle.

Despite everything, deep down, Aziraphale had been grateful for that speech. It was something familiar, as familiar as the nightmare, some sort of twisted routine that Aziraphale couldn’t help but look forward to when he was alone, alone, alone.

And still, in all these years alone, Aziraphale had never managed to let go of his books, his magic, his  _ duality _ . He had longed to return home and yet he hadn’t been able to break his curse.

No matter how hard he tried.

No matter how often he had stood there, familiar flaming sword in his clammy hands, trying to imagine his whole life  _ burning _ .

He had never been able to use the sword and the hungry, ravenous flames never got the chance to eat his books.

Instead, he had watched, how each and every day, the flames grew smaller and smaller and weaker.

Instead, he tried to come to terms with the fact that once the flames went out, his curse would last.

Forever.

But this time everything was different, the speech was different, Gabriel was different,  _ Aziraphale  _ was different and Aziraphale could feel it in the very air.

And he knew, he knew, he knew.

Even if he hoped against all hope that he was mistaken.

“And now you’ve done it. You let a  _ shifter _ into the castle the Order gave to you. A filthy animalistic beast.”

Yes, there it was.

Oh, how Aziraphale had hoped that he was wrong.

“Don’t think I can’t feel it. That magic is unmistakable and that filthy ring you’re wearing is like a beacon, alerting me to the presence of the mongrel shifter.”

Gabriel stepped closer, his eyes fixed on Crowley’s, no,  _ Aziraphale’s _ ring. Aziraphale clutched his hand to his chest, desperately trying to hide it from Gabriel’s disgusted gaze.

He did not want Gabriel to see the first present he had ever gotten, didn’t want Gabriel to  _ know _ about Crowley.

“You’ve been difficult Aziraphale. And that when we try so hard to teach you how to be  _ good. _ ”

Two fingers gripped Aziraphale’s chin, forcing him to look into sinister violet eyes. Aziraphale tried not to recoil from the unwanted touch.

“But would you look at that, I don’t even have to take care of this new mess you’ve made.”

The fingers forced Aziraphale’s head to the side, directing his gaze out through the window of the marbled palace.

A dark figure was wading through the woods. They were determined and fast and the continued snow was the only thing slowing them down, if only barely. Their clothes were tattered, their white hair a wild mess, their face speckled with warts and their eyes an evil, solid black.

Aziraphale knows where they were headed. He suspected he even knew who they were.

Aziraphale’s head was forced back and faceted eyes once again met deep violet.

“Well, well, well. That ring is a beacon and not just to us. It attracted some more unwanted attention.”

“Oh and, by the way, do you  _ know _ why he is coming? Do you know what your little shifter friend did?”

“ _ Do you know he  _ killed _ a fellow shifter of his pack, his family, and that was why he ran, why that wretched being stumbled across your doorstep? _ ”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and Gabriel laughed, laughed, laughed. He pushed Aziraphale’s face away from him and Aziraphale stumbled and fell.

“Two traitors found each other, isn’t that sweet? And it looks like you are going to have company soon. Do tell Hastur to give Beelzebub my regards though. It is awfully convenient of them to take care of your mess.”

Gabriel straightened up again and turned around, walking to the door in a sort of leisurely stroll.

“Oh, before I forget, maybe that mess will be the last you’ll ever make. You better repent for your traitorous actions soon, otherwise, by the time Hastur will arrive, it might already be too late for you.”

Then he walked out of the door.

\---

Aziraphale awoke curled in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He did not scream, nor did he cry.

He had known.

Oh, how he hated to be right.

In front of him, the slowly dying flames of his sword danced a silent, mocking dance.

\---


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tale as old as time  
> Song as old as rhyme  
> Beauty and the beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said angst train, I meant it ^^""  
> Have fun :)

When Aziraphale finally stumbled to his feet, he felt drained, as if his meeting with Gabriel had robbed him of his very life. He always felt like that after one of Gabriel’s check-ups, but this time it was worse.

Aziraphale fought against the nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

He wanted to do nothing more than to curl back up and sleep for a few years until all of this was over and his curse was finally broken.

But life wasn’t fair and Aziraphale’s curse would never break.

Besides, Aziraphale could not rest until he made sure Crowley would be okay.

Aziraphale owed Crowley that after Crowley had shown him how to be truly happy one last time before his curse would overwhelm him.

He had to protect him. Protect him, like he couldn’t protect his own magic.

Aziraphale knew Hastur was coming for Crowley. Gabriel should not have shown him that scrying glass, now he could prepare for the inevitable arrival.

It would be difficult, Aziraphale no longer had his duality. But he would find a way.

He had to.

For Crowley.

\---

When Crowley stumbled to his feet, he felt drained. He had had a dream again, he just knew it. And it had been important. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the cerulean-eyed man from the painting. 

But the dream was already slipping through his fingers, disappearing like wisps of smoke until all that was left of it was a sense of unease.

Crowley wanted nothing more than to lay back down and sleep his exhaustion away. Maybe then he would even remember what that dream had been about.

But life wasn’t fair and he just had to forget about it.

Besides, Crowley could not rest until he fulfilled his promise to Aziraphale.

Crowley owed Aziraphale that after Aziraphale had shown him the first real home Crowley has ever had.

He would make Aziraphale happy. And the first step to accomplishing that was to learn how to dance and show Aziraphale how much that Christmas present meant to him.

It would be difficult because Crowley had shown how bad he was at dancing. But Crowley would find a way.

He had to.

For Aziraphale.

\---

Aziraphale sat in the darkness of his room, his form illuminated only by the sword’s flickering flames and the subtle glow of his scrying ball.

_ Crowley stood in the center of Eden. The sun shone brightly through the opaque glass of the greenhouse. Despite the snow outside, it was warm inside and Crowley basked in the light. _

The scrying ball showed the same image Gabriel had shown him. Despite everything, Gabriel did not lie. The dark figure was fighting through the snow. Aziraphale just had to find out when Hastur would arrive and what he could do to stop him.

_ Crowley put the needle down onto the record and soft music filled the room. _

_ He knew he would have to get a lot of practice if he didn’t want to embarrass himself like he did on Christmas. He just had to find out how to move his body and his feet less like someone who just got their hip bones yesterday and still tried to figure out how to walk. _

It was easy to identify what had alerted Hastur to the presence of Crowley. The continued stream of powerful magic radiating off Crowley’s ring was a beacon, just like Gabriel had said.

Aziraphale had to figure out a way to shield the magic before Hastur figured out the location of the castle. He just had a few weeks at most.

Aziraphale once again cursed his lack of magic. He only had access to the spells of the Order, his duality on the other hand, was completely lost to him. All his tomes of books called out to him with their power and yet he could harness none of it.

_ One foot in front of the other. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Aziraphale had made it look easy, made it look graceful and divine. Crowley, on the other hand, made it look hellish. _

_ Weren’t snakes supposed to move effortlessly? Weren’t ravens supposed to look majestic? What good did it Crowley to have two different forms when he couldn’t master the movement of his human form? _

_ One foot in front of the other. Maybe he should relearn how to walk first? _

Aziraphale had tried several dampening spells on the ring. He had even remembered Crowley’s words about the colors of his spell and tried to subtly alter those as well.

It hurt to undermine Crowley’s work like that, to sully the beautiful present he had been given. But that was a sacrifice Aziraphale had to pay. Even if it was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever possessed, the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever been gifted, Crowley’s safety was worth so much more than a ring Aziraphale would like to possess. 

So he swallowed his guilt for destroying the present like that and worked on every spell he knew that could hide magic to any degree.

_ The comforting, lively green of Crowley’s plants surrounded him as he stumbled for the hundredth time this day. He hissed at his plants to not take this as a sign of weakness on his part and that they had better be growing well or else he would not hesitate to smash all their pots to the ground. _

_ Aziraphale’s beautiful music filled the whole room and wrapped around Crowley like a warm embrace. Despite his continued failures to learn the necessary steps for the dance, Crowley could not wipe the huge grin off his face. _

Aziraphale could feel that he had succeeded. After two whole days of putting all sorts of spells up until he fell unconscious from the exhaustion, he finally decided that the magic was shielded enough.

The ring still held its protective purposes and the base spell was still standing strong, Aziraphale made sure of that. But the ring no longer shone as brightly. It no longer was the tiny star that Crowley had pulled from the heavens to gift Aziraphale.

But that didn’t matter. The magic was shielded. It was no longer a beacon someone could track to find Crowley. Aziraphale had succeeded despite lacking his duality or his true form. Aziraphale laughed giddily. He just had to scry once more… just to make sure.

_ Crowley straightened himself up against the table he had just bumped into. He put down the pot carefully on the now no longer wobbling surface. He had caught the plant at the last minute before it shattered to the ground. _

_ He still had a long way to go before he could make Aziraphale happy with his dancing skills. But he would not give up. He could already notice his improvements. He just had to practice more. _

_ Crowley hadn’t really seen much of Aziraphale the past few days. The still always ate together and at the end of each day they would curl up on the couch together, despite the fact that both of them had beds to sleep in. But Crowley had been so distracted by his practice every day that he barely had time for more than that. Crowley still cooked for both of them and Aziraphale still read out loud for Crowley. But Crowley often had his head elsewhere and was just glad that Aziraphale seemed just as distracted or his little secret dance lessons would have already been exposed. _

_ For now, the surprise was still on the table and Crowley had to work hard to really impress Aziraphale. Crowley set down the needle at the beginning again and took his stance. _

Aziraphale would have cried if it were still physically possible for him. He had failed. Oh, he had dulled the ring’s magic alright, but he had been too late.

His crystal ball clearly showed Hastur on his way still. Hastur had apparently located the castle already, even if the ring’s magic was no longer actively showing the way, it had still burned long enough to have painted a clear target on the castle.

Aziraphale clutched the ring to his chest. After everything he had done, after sullying Crowley’s present like that, it still wasn’t enough.  _ He _ wasn’t enough. Gabriel had been right, he would always be a failure, a weakling.

Aziraphale strode out of his room. The atmosphere was getting too oppressive. The sword’s flames were still mocking him. Time had already run out. Aziraphale stepped to a window and opened it. He looked into the direction where he knew Hastur was on his way to hurt Crowley.

Aziraphale had to stop him.

Maybe he could just undo all the dampening spells and send the ring away in some random direction far away from the castle with a transportation spell. It would be  _ easy _ . Hastur would pick up on the ring’s magic and think that Crowley was on the move again. Then he would follow the ring on a wild goose chase around until he was far far away from Crowley. Aziraphale pulled the ring off his finger.

It would be easy. He muttered the spell’s incantations. He just had to throw the ring out of the window.

_ It was easy _ . And yet Aziraphale’s hand wavered, shook, tightened around the ring. He swung his arm but his hand would not let go. The spell faded and Aziraphale collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t do it. No matter what, he couldn’t throw away this piece of Crowley. Aziraphale curled around his hand still clutching the ring and tried against all hope to cry.

_ Crowley was laughing wildly as he spun around the room. Forward right, left foot to the side, tap, backward left, right foot back, tap. And again. Forward right, left foot to the side, tap, backward left, right foot back, tap. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady. _

_ Crowley could do this. He would. He could imagine Aziraphale’s shocked face and then the blinding grin. Could almost hear Aziraphale’s voice. “What a lovely surprise, my dear boy,” he would say. And Crowley would answer “May I have this dance?” And Aziraphale would take his hand and look at Crowley with shining faceted eyes and they would spin around the room to the music until they were exhausted. _

_ It would be perfect; Crowley just had a few last things to prepare. _

Really, Aziraphale shouldn’t feel like this. It was the only way. He had to make sure Crowley was safe above all else. He had to do this. There was no other option.

Aziraphale had always known this would not last. But somehow, deep down, he had hoped he’d be able to capture these moments in a marmalade jar and preserve them forever. Now, now was too soon, he had hoped he would have more time to prepare. But when had luck ever been on his side? Aziraphale sighed. His faceted eyes shone but even with all the turmoil inside him, his cheeks stayed dry. Aziraphale had to act fast, he had to. He had known this day would come. Now, he just needed to make this… easy… for Crowley.

Dinner, Aziraphale decided. Dinner would be the perfect time.

_ Really, Crowley shouldn’t feel like this. He had practiced, he could do this now. Why had it been easier to gift Aziraphale a  _ bonding ring _ but this proved to be too difficult? Why was Crowley trembling ever so slightly? He would do this today, the earlier the better. Otherwise, he’d never go through with it. Otherwise, he’d lock himself inside Eden every day for the rest of his life and still he wouldn’t ever feel ready. He had to do this quickly. Better now than never. _

_ And besides, Crowley could not wait to see the look on Aziraphale’s face. The silent delight and slight anxiety. It would be wonderful. A perfect moment ripe for capturing in a marmalade jar. Crowley would make sure of it. _

_ Dinner, Crowley decided. Dinner would be the perfect time. _

\---

Dinner was a tense affair. Crowley was trying not to tremble the whole time. He had made almost as much to eat as he had on Christmas. He could almost feel the record radiating heat from across the room where Crowley had placed it for convenience. He ignored it in favor of watching Aziraphale eat. Crowley himself was not able to get a single bite down. He was too nervous.

Aziraphale too seemed to be radiating an anxious energy. He had probably picked up on Crowley’s antics. Aziraphale was eating much more and much faster than he usually did. He didn’t savour it and he did not make any happy noises at the taste.

Really, Crowley should have known something was up.

Suddenly Aziraphale stopped eating and Crowley tilted his head to look at him quizzically.

“What is your pack like?” Aziraphale asked, with a sort of faraway, maybe even wistful look on his face.

“My pack? What made you think about that?”

“I don’t know… just- family, I guess.”

Crowley huffed and let his eyes fall closed.

“They’re not like family… At least… uhm- at least my pack isn’t,” he mumbled, wishing to not have to think about them at all.

The memories surfacing were not welcome. In front of his inner eye, he could still see Ligur’s grimace. He could still hear the echoes of his screams. He could still  _ taste  _ Hastur’s shock in the very air. He could hear Beelzebub’s hissing voice demand that Crowley…

Crowley shook his head, but the memories clung.

Outside it was slowly but surely getting warmer again. Maybe February would bring another bout of winter, but currently, the almost constant snow was slowly disappearing and now the reason why Crowley had stumbled into the castle in the first place came up again.

Now, no,  _ today _ , of all times.

While the cold had been a great protector from Crowley’s old packmates as they shared the cold-bloodedness, with the soon coming spring, Hastur would surely take up the pursuit of Crowley. That much was sure. Hastur wouldn’t even need a command from Beelzebub. He probably was on his way already.

“Why,” asked Crowley opening his eyes again. “Why do you ask?”

“You rarely talk about them,” replied Aziraphale in a soft and small voice.

“I don’t like thinking about them,” huffed Crowley.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you want to know that.”

“Would you tell me, if I did want to know… that?”

Crowley sighed. He hadn’t known Aziraphale for long, but by now he could recognize that the other would not let that topic drop so soon.

“I… would, no… will… tell you, one of these days. Just, can we not do this today?”

Aziraphale paused, then nodded and turned back to his food.

“Besides,” continued Crowley. “You don’t really talk about your past, your family either.”

Aziraphale looked at his plate as if it held the answers to life, the universe and everything.

“I don’t think we have ever really talked about any of your nightmares. Not even the one right before Christmas. And we haven’t talked about the time I was in the West Wing either. And who is Gabr-”

“Enough!” Aziraphale interrupted. “Some things are better left… unsaid.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale startled, he had not expected such an outburst.

“What do you mean? Wh-”

“My past… is unimportant.”

“Is it though? How come you can ask about my pack and when I-”

“Why were you in the forest that day? Why were you running? Why did you come… here?”

“... What?”

Aziraphale’s faceted eyes betrayed nothing of his feelings and the air between them grew even more tense.

Then, Aziraphale broke their eye contact.

“You are right, I am sorry, my dear. I should not have snapped at you like that and I should not have asked like that. You didn’t want to do this today. I shall respect your wish. I apologize, I’ve been… rather high-strung this evening.”

Crowley let out a nervous laugh, relieved that the moment between them was broken.

“No need to apologize, I think I might be the reason for your ‘high-strung’-ness… I’ve been a bit nervous myself.”

Aziraphale hummed quizzically.

“Well, you see. I wanted to try something today. That is, if I… may?”

Now that the tension had dissipated, Aziraphale looked just mildly curious and nodded.

Crowley took a few calming breaths and strode to the record player he had prepared.

The music immediately filled the silent room and Aziraphale gasped in recognition.

“ _ Crowley! _ ”

Crowley turned around, trying and failing to ignore the warmth in his cheekbones. Slowly but surely he crossed the distance between them again.

“I don’t know about you angel, but I do believe our tries on Christmas weren’t that successful. And I wanted to correct that. That’s the reason I’ve been so scarce around the castle lately. I… practised for a bit. I’m no master at it now, not by all means, but I do believe I’ve gotten a bit better. I thought it would show you how much I appreciated, still appreciate, your gift, even if you think it’s ‘small’. Which, for the record, I disagree with. But, that’s not the point. The point is…. Angel, may I have this dance?”

Crowley bowed before Aziraphale still sitting in front of probably already cold food. He stretched his hand out for Aziraphale to take it. To join him for a dance.

Aziraphale had put two of his hands in front of his mouth, his breathing went fast, almost bordering on panicked. He seemed to be very surprised at Crowley’s words.

“ _ Oh, oh, Crowley! _ ”

Crowley smiled.

“Oh, Crowley,  _ no!” _

Crowley’s heart stood still, but Aziraphale immediately continued.

“I mean, Crowley,  _ no, _ that wasn’t necessary, you didn’t have to!”

“No, but I wanted to. I wanted to make you happy with this. I wasn’t that successful with it on Christmas, I wanted to make amends for my terrible dancing then.”

“Crowley,  _ oh Crowley, _ why  _ today? _ ”

“Oh? Is that your biggest problem with this,” Crowley joked, trying to downplay his nervosity. “We could have done it on any other day, but I feared that if I did not ask you today, I would have never had the nerve to go through with it. So I decided to do it now or never. So, what do you say, angel? Care to join me for this dance?”

This time, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, his faceted eyes shone as if with unshed tears and Aziraphale’s smile was small and wobbly.

Crowley had probably overwhelmed him.

But Aziraphale had taken Crowley’s hand.

And Crowley  _ beamed. _

\---

Sometimes, despite everything, Aziraphale was grateful for his inability to cry. At least this way, Crowley would not see his pain.

Aziraphale had to be strong. But apparently the universe liked to laugh at him, why else would Crowley make Aziraphale’s wish for a dance partner come true right before he had to… leave.

But Aziraphale had never been strong in his entire life.

He was not the lean, mean, fighting machine that Gabriel wanted.

He was soft.

So he took Crowley’s hand and let himself be led to the floor.

He gulped when Crowley beamed at him with so much joy and pride.

“You are the taller one of us, so you still get the honor of leading,” Crowley smiled.

One last dance. He could,  _ would,  _ give Crowley one last dance before he sent him away.

For Crowley’s own good.

It would not be easy to convince Crowley to go.

To go and not look back.

But Aziraphale had his plan.

Hastur was coming to the castle because of the echo of the ring’s magic. Hastur had already honed in on the castle before Aziraphale had been able to suppress it. But he only had that, if Crowley was no longer in the castle, there would be no way of Hastur to track him again. And since Aziraphale could not leave the castle grounds and the surrounding forest, he could stay as a sort of distraction, to keep Hastur from ever being able to go after Crowley.

But Aziraphale could have one last dance, selfish as the wish might be.

Just one last dance before he had to say…

Good bye.

\---

The dance was beautiful.

The music surrounded them like a warm embrace as they spun around the room, breathlessly.

Crowley was softly laughing at the sheer amazement that they were actually doing it and his practise did not fail him.

Aziraphale meanwhile looked at him as if his heart was being ripped in two.

And really, it was.

Aziraphale could do nothing more than to stare at the pure elation in Crowley’s face, trying to memorize every tiny wrinkle, every twitching muscle, every miniscule detail of Crowley’s face.

Of his love’s face.

Because that’s what Crowley was.

The love of Aziraphale’s life.

And it pained Aziraphale to think about the fact that this… would be the last time he ever saw Crowley’s happiness.

Because Crowley would leave. Like Aziraphale always knew he would. Crowley would leave and find new happiness, better happiness, far far away from Aziraphale, as he  _ should _ , he probably would never even look back and would forget Aziraphale eventually.

Because Crowley would leave and Aziraphale would be swallowed by his curse if Hastur or Gabriel didn’t kill him first.

But it was worth it, everything was worth it if it meant that Crowley was safe.

Forward right, left foot to the side, tap, backward left, right foot back, tap. And again.

Aziraphale could see the joy in Crowley’s eyes when he got hopelessly lost in these beautiful amber depths.

Aziraphale would protect that joy even if it meant his own death.

\---

When the song ended, Crowley was out of breath, both because of the physical effort but also because of the closeness of Aziraphale’s body.

Crowley had not messed up and his feet had done the job. He looked up with a grin, expecting an answering smile on Aziraphale’s face.

Instead, he was met with a frown.

In the background, a new song started playing, slow and almost melancholic, but Crowley had all but forgotten about it.

“What’s wrong? Was I bad? Did you not like it? I’m sorry, I practiced on my own but that’s not the same I mean-”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupted softly. “How long do you plan… to stay?”

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat. He had not expected that question, not ever, but especially not now.

He didn’t know an answer to it. He hadn’t thought about it himself.

“You almost sound like you want me to go, angel,” he tried laughing it off, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.

Aziraphale didn’t answer.

“You said… you said I could stay for as long as I wanted … remember? After we fought the wolves… together. You said I could… stay, didn’t you?”

“‘For as long as you want’ doesn’t mean ‘Forever’, Crowley.”

They were still in each other’s arms from the dance, but now with the topic and the fact that neither of them was moving, Aziraphale’s bigger height suddenly seemed intimidating.

Crowley didn’t know what to say.

Where was this coming from? Was it something he had done? Had Aziraphale disliked the dancing so much? Or had it been something else, something more? He didn’t know, he didn’t have the details.

“What…” Crowley gulped. “What are you saying, ange- … Aziraphale?”

\---

Aziraphale didn’t know what he was saying.

Or, no, he knew  _ what _ he was saying, he just didn’t know how to say it.

How should he be able to convince Crowley to go when he himself didn’t want Crowley to go. He just wanted to stay with him forever, in some little corner of the world where no one would find them. Not Hastur, not Gabriel, not even a stupid curse.

Maybe a little cottage at the sea, filled with books and a huge back yard for Crowley’s plants. A piece of heaven on earth.

But that wasn’t what reality had in store for them.

This was not some nice little story where things like “True Love’s Kiss” existed and where the main characters inevitably get their “Happily Ever After”.

Aziraphale sighed.

He couldn’t look into Crowley’s eyes, didn’t dare to, for fear of what he would find in those wonderful, breathtaking, amber orbs.

“You…you can’t stay… here… forever. You know? You wanted to wait until it got warmer and until my wounds had healed. We both know these reasons… expired weeks ago. Yet, you are still here. So, how long do you plan on staying?”

And Crowley, wonderful, breathtaking Crowley gaped at him as if Aziraphale had grown a second head, as if Aziraphale was some sort of giant moth beast and he couldn’t believe it.

Because that’s what Aziraphale was.

A beast.

And he would stay that way if that would mean Crowley would be safe.

It was better this way.

“Weren’t you running from something when you first came to my doorstep? What happened to that? Don’t you have… other places to go to?”

Aziraphale turned around, ignoring how much it pained him to pull his hands out of Crowley’s hold. He just couldn’t bear to see the multitude of emotions crossing over Crowley’s face.

“I can’t just… leave,” Crowley whispered and Aziraphale’s heart squeezed painfully at how broken it sounded. “There isn’t anywhere to go.”

“It’s a big world,” Aziraphale found himself saying. “There are always other places to go.”

He tried not to flinch at the feel of Crowley’s hand hesitantly reaching for his again. He didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to pull his hand away a second time.

“We could… you know… go off together?” Crowley offered and there was trepidation in his voice but also  _ hope, _ so much hope.

“Go off together?” Aziraphale gasped, his timid elation at hearing these words almost overflowing.

And Aziraphale wanted to say yes, wanted to take Crowley’s hand and go off together and never, never let go.

Because Aziraphale was soft, soft, soft, and weak and Gabriel was right, always right.

Gabriel.

Gabriel was never soft, he was strong and determined and he knew at all times what he had to do. Aziraphale needed to sound like Gabriel now, firm and strong and sure of himself.

He had to go through with this or Crowley would pay the costs for Aziraphale’s softness.

“Go off together?” Aziraphale repeated and forced himself to scoff. “Listen to yourself!”

“How long have we been living together?” Crowley asked and there was desperation in his voice. “How long have we been friends?  _ Best _ friends?”

Aziraphale had to be strong, for once in his life, like Gabriel.

“Friends?! We’re not f-friends! We are a Mage of the Cleric Order and a Shapeshifter! We keep secrets from each other, do friends do that? No, we're reluctant roommates at best, forced together by convenience! We have nothing whatsoever in common! And I- I don’t even like you!”

There, that should probably do it. Aziraphale had said it with as much conviction as he could. He had been like Gabriel. Strong and relentless.

_ And cruel _ , whispered a little voice in his head.  _ Cruel to the one person that made you nothing but happy. _

“You do,” whispered Crowley, but he did not sound too sure of that himself.

“Besides, I never should have let you stay for so long. But I- I- I… pitied you! Yes! You were on Death’s door and despite everything, I couldn’t just let you die! But now the snowstorm is over! It’s getting warmer! There is no longer a reason for your continued stay! And I still don’t know why you came here! You could be a _murderer_ for all I know!” Aziraphale called out, suddenly feeling agitated and desperately trying to convince himself of the exclamations he made. Trying not to think about Gabriel’s smug face as he told Aziraphale that Crowley had killed one of his own pack.

Crowley froze.

“Aziraphale-”

But no other words followed.

“Perhaps it’s better if you... go,” Aziraphale sighed.

\---

Crowley had forgotten how to breathe. His pained gasps sounded deafening in his ears. But Aziraphale did not seem to notice how close to a panic attack Crowley was.

He didn’t know what had happened.

He didn’t know what had brought this on.

He didn’t know  _ what he had done. _

Where had he gone wrong? What did he do to elicit Aziraphale’s wrath? His cruel words?

Had he judged the entire situation wrong?

He- He had thought they were friends.

After the many hours spent together, reading together, eating together, talking with each other... dancing with each other. And after Christmas.

After Aziraphale’s countless breathtaking smiles.

Crowley had thought… no, hoped, maybe delusionally so, that Aziraphale loved him back.

Now, now he wasn’t sure.

Now he wasn’t sure what to think at all.

It came out of nowhere. With no explanation.

And it felt like Crowley could not ask for one either.

“Right,” Crowley said, gulping, but he made no move. He couldn’t remember how to move his legs anyways.

It felt like Aziraphale had just crushed his heart to dust.

But it did not prepare him for what happened next.

“Oh, and here. You shouldn’t have given this to me, it’s yours.”

Aziraphale’s hands moved to his finger.

_ Oh no, no no no no NO. Everything but this. Please, no. Please. _

After a brief moment, Crowley was presented with the ring on Aziraphale’s outstretched palm, the bonding ring. Crowley’s bonding ring.

And Crowley’s world stood still.

Aziraphale put the ring in Crowley’s unresponsive hand, manually wrapping Crowley’s fingers around it.

The metal in Crowley’s hand turned a frigid, icy cold the instant Aziraphale’s fingers no longer touched it.

The cold all but burned itself into Crowley’s palm and the snake in Crowley squirmed to get away from the feeling. But Crowley didn’t react. Didn't even blink. His face, his whole body suddenly a statue.

_ Anything but this. _

But the rejected bonding ring only grew colder in his palm.

And Crowley felt his soul being ripped in two.

Crowley let his arm drop, his hand briefly tightening around the ring in his hand even though he felt like the coldness of it should have already burned itself into his skin like a scar.

Crowley couldn’t feel the magic of the bonding ring anymore. It was still functional, he knew this because despite everything he still felt the emotional connection to it. He had used parts of his very soul to craft the ring after all.

But he did not feel its magic in the atmosphere around them anymore.

As if someone had muted its aura.

But maybe that too was just another effect of the rejection.

Slowly, mechanically Crowley turned around and walked out of the room.

If Aziraphale said anything more, Crowley didn’t hear him. The blood rushing in his ears was overshadowing everything else.

He felt like he hadn’t breathed at all since Aziraphale took off the ring.

He was pretty sure he died that very instant.

It didn’t matter now anyways.

Aziraphale rejected the bonding ring. Aziraphale rejected him.

Aziraphale wanted him… to leave.

So he would.

To do the last thing Aziraphale wished of him.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5k+ words of pure angst...  
> How many people hate me now? :)
> 
> Also, I hope you liked the mirroring scenes, I had a lot of fun writing them and trying out this sort of new style!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does the thing Aziraphale wished of him and Aziraphale gets a visit from an old "friend"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen it yet, one of my artists posted her art!!!!  
> I can finally gush about how great it is!!!!!! Her art is in the next work of the series or alternatively [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580485)!! It's probably gonna get a character sheet of Mothziraphale too sometime today, so definitely check it out! It's so amazingly cute!!
> 
> And it helps with all the angst still on the way ;)

The door creaked behind Crowley as it fell shut behind him and the sound echoed ominously in his heart.

It felt like a punch in the gut.

He opened his hand to stare at the golden piece in his hand.

The cold had not left a mark on his skin despite what Crowley had thought. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted it to leave a mark.

Maybe he just wanted to have…  _ something _ to remind Crowley of his time with Aziraphale.

But then again, maybe the memory of their happy times would only remind him of his current pain.

He sighed.

He trudged to his room as if he was wading through a deep bog. Each movement was slow and difficult.

He did not have many things to pack. After all, he did arrive at the castle with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Crowley put on a pair of sunglasses and tried to forget about the fact that he hadn’t worn one in weeks because there had been no reason to hide his eyes in front of his ang- in front of Aziraphale.

The ring was still burning cold in his hand. Crowley doubted that would change.

But it felt inherently wrong to take the small piece of metal with him.

He had gifted it to Aziraphale after all and even if he rejected it, rejected  _ him,  _ this piece of Crowley was Aziraphale’s forever.

So, Crowley did the only thing his mind could come up with.

\---

The west wing was just the way Crowley remembered it - dark, mysterious and abandoned.

Haunted.

But this time he wasn’t interested in the secrets it held.

He spared one look at the mysterious man in the painting when he opened the secret door, but he had to avert his eyes not a second later. The captivating cerulean eyes and breathtaking smile reminded Crowley too much of Aziraphale.

Funny, how he missed Aziraphale already when he hadn’t even left the castle.

The secret room too had not changed.

The flaming sword still shone but it felt like less of a dangerous dance of flames and more the last flickerings before a fire died.

There were books and papers all over the room. Crowley picked the book closest to the sword. Not that it really mattered.

The bonding ring made barely an indent when Crowley pushed it into the pages of the book.

Despite the muted magic of the ring, despite the rejection of it, it would still perform its duties. Crowley had created it to keep the bearer of the ring safe. It would do that from here, a secret dark corner in a forgotten room. A part of Crowley’s soul that would forever belong here, belong to Aziraphale; whether he wanted it or not.

Crowley put the book back down and nothing betrayed that the ring was there.

Nothing betrayed that Crowley had been there.

Crowley left the west wing and did not look back.

\---

Aziraphale watched through the windows at the gate.

He had not moved since Crowley left the room. He simply had no power left to move a single muscle.

It was as if Crowley had taken Aziraphale’s soul with him as he left. He probably had.

But Crowley didn’t know. Crowley would likely only remember Aziraphale’s last words to him. He would only remember the cruel beast and would think that’s what Aziraphale was deep down.

Crowley was probably angry, furious even.

It was better this way.

If he was angry, he would not come back.

He could never come back because Aziraphale wasn’t sure what Crowley would find should he ever return to the castle.

Maybe he would find a mindless beast long after the curse had overtaken Aziraphale. Maybe he would find a body, killed by Hastur for protecting Crowley. Maybe he would only find an empty castle when Gabriel took Aziraphale away from his books and his only home.

But was it really still a home when the only thing, the only person, that made this place  _ live _ had left?

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Crowley would be safe.

What happened to Aziraphale was of no concern.

There was movement in the yard and Aziraphale’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the lone figure of Crowley slowly but surely approaching the gate.

Suddenly Aziraphale found the strength to move closer to the window. He put a hand to the window plane. He wanted to reach out, to open the window and call out to Crowley so that he would stay. He did none of those things.

Crowley had taken all his warm winter clothes and even the old coat that Aziraphale had given him.

He looked sad and cold and lonely.

It was all Aziraphale’s fault. But all Aziraphale could do was watch as the love of his life left Aziraphale forever.

He told himself that it would be better this way.

It did not sound convincing.

Crowley walked through the gates and never once looked back.

\---

The metallic clang of the gates falling shut behind Crowley felt like someone shutting a giant book. Fitting really, because the happiest story of Crowley’s life was now coming to an end.

He did not look back, even when his thoughts screamed at him to do just that.

He hadn’t said Good Bye either. Had not even attempted to visit his plants in Eden one last time. Had not seen Aziraphale since his cutting words.

It was for the best.

There was… nothing left for him in that castle. No matter how much it had felt like  _ home. _

\---

Crowley had left the castle late last night, had just walked and walked and walked, probably in circles. He trudged through the woods with no particular goal in mind, not even a particular direction to walk into. Just… forward.

Sometime during the night, he had slept in the trees in his raven form, fitfully.

Afterwards he had went on like he had the day before.

One step after the other, even if it felt like ripping his heart out with every step he moved away from the castle, away from the bonding ring, away from Aziraphale.

Crowley could still feel the ring. Of course he could, it’s what a bonding ring was for after all. A permanent connection to the bearer of the ring. The ability to feel them wherever they were coupled with the potent spells for good luck and protection.

He would forever feel the ring.

He had to live with that.

The woods were silent. No bird sang and even the wolves were only lurking somewhere and never emerged. The eerie silence fit Crowley’s mood even if he had secretly hoped to be maimed by wolves because it would be less painful than all of this.

So Crowley walked and walked and walked.

He did not expect to arrive at any destination but suddenly he found himself at the outskirts of a small town. Though the term ‘village’ probably described it better. It was quite quaint and looked like the place where everyone knew everyone. Not really a place for strangers.

But Crowley found himself immeasurably tired. He did not care what kind of village it was or that he probably looked like hell from the night spent in the woods. He just needed to sit down.

And maybe have a drink or ten to drown out everything that had happened.

\---

When Gabriel appeared beside him, Aziraphale was still standing exactly where he had when Crowley had left forever.

Gabriel didn’t even bother with a dream vision this time. Didn’t perform the routine Aziraphale had come to expect of him, didn’t make Aziraphale relive the last moment he had spent as a human.

No, this time, he just silently appeared behind Aziraphale and took in the sight in front of him with a disgusted face. Aziraphale was sure he could see everything that had happened just by looking at him. The fact that he had not moved a muscle since Crowley had left, the way his hand still rested on the window plane still uselessly reaching out to no one in particular leaving an appalling sweaty handprint on the glass despite Aziraphale’s fur, the way the glass was fogged from Aziraphale’s heavy, almost panicked breathing, the way Aziraphale’s face was contorted in a way that would be described as crying if Aziraphale’s eyes were still capable of producing tears.

A picture of despair. Finally broken after years of Gabriel trying.

Aziraphale did not bother to acknowledge him.

“So,” Gabriel drawled, obviously bored already at the sight of Aziraphale’s misery. “You actually took care of that one yourself. Well done, Aziraphale. If not for your current…  _ posture _ I would have almost been impressed.” He spat the words out as if they had personally offended him. They probably had.

“You actually got rid of the little snake. Finally showed some backbone. I’d never had thought you had it in you, sunshine, under all that softness. But that was only a part of it, wasn’t it? You know what you still have to do.”

Gabriel lit a fire in his palm, Aziraphale saw the reflection of it in the window, despite its fogged state.

But Aziraphale couldn’t even find it in him to react to the fact that his books were about to be burned. He thought back to the time when imagining his books burning was like imagining his whole life going up in flames. He wondered when that stopped being true.

He wondered when Crowley had become his life instead.

Gabriel extinguished the flames in his palm again obviously put out by the lack of reaction from Aziraphale.

“But that’s your task, now isn’t it? I can’t do that for you despite how easy it would be. You have to redeem yourself on your own you know. Can’t have me holding your sweaty little hand all through the process. Lighting a little fire under your books should be so very easy, after all, they are not even of any use to you. Not with your duality suppressed.”

Gabriel was rambling, trying desperately to pull a reaction, any reaction, out of Aziraphale. Aziraphale would have laughed if he were in any mood to do such a thing.

“Though I do have to say, it is a shame that you didn’t kill the snake yourself. That would have been a great redemption, finally showing your loyalty to the Order, maybe then you wouldn’t even have to burn any of your precious books. But that can easily be remedied. Maybe I might be bothered to… dispose of the vermin myself if Hastur fails to deliver on his promise of vengeance.”

Suddenly Aziraphale felt a white-hot rage burst into flame inside of him. His previous lethargy and unwillingness to move or to even care melted away in a flash.

Gabriel, Gabriel was the reason for all of his troubles, all of his pain. If Gabriel hadn’t been, Aziraphale would have never found himself in this situation.

Never would have had to choose between the fire and the frying pan.

Never would have to look forward to either death or a life as a mindless beast. Alone, forever.

And Gabriel was the reason why Aziraphale had to hurt the love of his life so much.

It was all Gabriel’s fault.

Every single thing.

And now he was  _ threatening Crowley?! _

But there was something Gabriel had failed to consider.

Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had always been a rather passive person. He took what was coming to him without much fight. Hell, even now, he had not moved since Crowley had left. Had not even  _ tried _ to fight the inevitable.

But now after all Aziraphale’s restraints had snapped, now that his anger and fury was boiling over, there was one other thing Gabriel had forgotten about.

“You know,” Aziraphale growled out, so low and dangerous that even Gabriel had no choice but to notice the shift in the atmosphere around them, moving a step back in shock. “You forgot that even if you suppress my duality, I still have plenty of magic left to deal with  _ vermin _ .”

Flames danced high across the blade of Aziraphale’s sword when it materialized in his hands, lighting up the previously dark room with the same intensity as the anger raging inside Aziraphale.

Throughout the duration of his curse, Aziraphale had not dared to use his fiery blade, for fear of smothering the flames much quicker, for fear of losing his humanity before it truly was inevitable. Instead, even when attacked by wolves, Aziraphale had fought with his cursed form, his talons, and razor-sharp wings. But now it didn’t matter anymore. Today, Aziraphale wanted to, no,  _ needed  _ to fight Hastur with the last shred of humanity he had left. He wanted to have one last triumph over the beast. For Crowley.

The fact that he got the chance to use his sword against Gabriel, of all people, was just a bonus.

Gabriel took another step back, his eyes darting frantically around the room to find some sort of defense for himself.

He found none.

Of course not, this was Aziraphale’s home field now.

“Really,” ground Gabriel out when his eyes landed back on Aziraphale’s form. Aziraphale was towering over him due to the curse’s altered shape, which had never been the case before, in all their interactions. Now, Aziraphale seemed terrifying, a force of nature instead of the soft, weak man Gabriel had known before. “Really? Now you choose to  _ fight _ ? After all these years where you had the chance?  _ Now  _ you choose to stand up for yourself? When I’m gratulating you for a job well done? What sort of twisted reality do you live in?”

“The reality  _ you _ forced me into.”

Aziraphale moved as fast as lightning. It should not have been possible with his current size. But underneath it all, Aziraphale had always been a fighter even if Gabriel and the Order often overlooked that fact.

The blade sizzled as it ate through Gabriel’s tie from where it rested against Gabriel’s throat. But despite his anger, Aziraphale had full control over the flames. The sword had always been his and despite the lack of practice, despite his altered shape, his body remembered how to wield it properly.

“You will not threaten Crowley ever again. Do you understand me? Or the next time you will meet my sword, I will not reign it in.”

Gabriel tried to move away from the blade, but Aziraphale pushed further until Gabriel’s back met the wall in a painful thud and when Gabriel tried to straighten, the edge dug deeper into his neck, drawing blood.

Gabriel gulped.

“Get out,” hissed Aziraphale. “Leave me  _ the fuck  _ alone and remember if you so much as breathe in Crowley’s direction, I will personally make it your last breath.”

Then he pulled his sword away, the flames finally burning lower, his anger no longer there to feed them.

A few moments passed, then Gabriel straightened and shook off the ash of his former tie. Both of them pretended to miss the way his hands shook when he wiped off his once immaculate suit.

“Well, this would probably be you abandoning all your hope of ever breaking my curse on you or returning home ever in your lifetime, now wouldn’t it? There will be no place in the Order for someone like you. Nor will there ever be hope of becoming human again. Not even burning your precious books will save you now,” Gabriel said, his voice dripping with fake nonchalance.

Aziraphale didn’t answer.

He was done with it all. He sent the love of his life away, what even was the point of everything, now? 

He didn't do it for Gabriel, nor for his position in the Order. 

There was no breaking of the curse from the very beginning, not with his books as the prize. There was no hope of reconciliation with Crowley, not after everything he said. There was no resolution to any of this, not with the only resolution being the possibility of Crowley’s death.

And if Aziraphale was to die, or whatever would happen to him when the curse ran its course or Hastur got to him, he would not do it still under Gabriel's thumb. And he had accomplished exactly that just now.

So now there was nothing else left to do but wait until his inevitable fate caught up to him.

“Right,” Gabriel smiled terribly, suddenly feeling again as if he was the victor in this grand scheme of his. As if Aziraphale’s silence confirmed his defeat.

“Suit yourself.” He said, all casual without even a hint of his earlier trepidation in the face of Aziraphale’s sword.

Gabriel even went as far as tapping the tip of the sword, wiping the sliver of blood off its edge and meaningfully tracing the old arcane symbols on its blade, making their magic hum and glow, as if the situation hadn’t affected him just a few seconds ago. His fingers came away without even a hint of damage. Aziraphale had already brought his point across after all. Even if Gabriel tried to play it off now.

“Enjoy your last... oh, no more than a handful of hours, I would say. Now that you’ve chosen your fate, I'll make sure they use you as a cautionary tale for the new apprentices. We shall never see each other again.”

And then he disappeared with a last wave over his shoulder, abandoning Aziraphale to the fate he had chosen.

_ Good riddance, _ Aziraphale thought and his sword clattered to the floor.

The fire, now reverted back to its dying state, burned through the thick carpet in seconds now that Aziraphale no longer held the sword in his hand to control the flames.

One last time, the flames burned high again before the sword disappeared back to its rightful place on the pedestal in the secret room from which Aziraphale had summoned it.

Leaving behind only a great hole in the carpet, revealing pure white marble underneath.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst still continues but at least we got some BAMF!Mothziraphale!  
> The coming days (today too), you will get two chapters each day (because my deadline is on the 8th and I have to post everything til then) XD
> 
> And again, please check out Aura's amazing art for my Bang fic!! It's incredibly cute! You can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580485)!!
> 
> See you later for another chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley drinks about his sorrows and meets some new people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My official artist updated her work with character sheets of [Mothziraphale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580485/chapters/53981797#workskin)!! Do check it out!
> 
> Also, you guys overwhelmed me by making _even more art_ even if you weren't my official artists! And I am so grateful to all of you!
> 
> [Here](https://wyvernquill.tumblr.com/post/190680864371/a-little-sketch-of-mothziraphale-for) is the art from my lovely storycoach wy, who, when we debated what Aziraphale's cursed form should be and I mentioned mothzira, was like: "I have to draw that", which made mothzira the only viable option as Aziraphale's cursed form.
> 
> [Here](https://pearlll09.tumblr.com/post/190557784322/i-made-this-based-off-of-the-wonderful-beauty-and) is my amazing beta's take on Crowley discovering the flaming sword (notice the details! The runes on the blade!!)
> 
> Ecchima made _two_ pieces: [here](https://twitter.com/Ecchimas_art/status/1223625497344716801) (a piece that was created _before_ I even started posting) and [here](https://twitter.com/Ecchimas_art/status/1224381679646793729) (an absolutely ADORABLE take on the playing in snow scene :333)
> 
> Also, in one of the comments to chapter 9, PepNpaps left me this absolutely gorgeous take on Mothzira in a unique style:[here](https://sta.sh/01213gltp3gs)
> 
> I CAN NOT BELIEVE THE AMOUNT OF LOVE I HAVE RECEIVED!!! THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH!!!  
> Thank you also for more than 2200 hits!  
> Omg you guys have made this an absolutely amazing experience for me and I cannot thank you enough!
> 
> But after that huge author's note, onto the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

Tadfield was in a state of upheaval. It was not every day that they had strangers.

Especially not ones that stumbled out of the forest, completely unbothered by wolves and then proceed into the nearest tavern and get absolutely hammered.

The Great Witchhunter’s Tavern was not somewhere Adam and his friends usually hung out. Not with Sergeant Shadwell running the place in his usual peculiar and gruff manner.

But the stranger obviously didn’t care who ran the place, as was evidenced by one bottle of wine already completely emptied on the table.

So Adam and his friends had to go and investigate.

The man was dressed completely in black and wore sunglasses even inside the tavern! And he had an interesting walk and a tattoo on his face and fiery red hair! He looked like a male witch, a warlock maybe? Or a demon!

Maybe they should get Anathema to look at the oddity. Anathema was a witch, so she knew about these sorts of things, he reconned.

\---

Crowley had found a tavern fast enough and he really didn’t care about how shady it looked. He had wanted to forget everything that had happened just last night, just a few hours ago.

He had already had a whole bottle of wine but it wasn’t nearly enough. Crowley had a glass, of course, but he had immediately forgone it to drink straight from the bottle. His lousy day called for that.

He sat at a table in a dark corner for what could have been hours or days, weeks, centuries. It probably wasn’t quite that long, but Crowley didn’t care. He watched as the shadows in the room grew longer and tried to think of nothing at all.

Especially he tried not thinking about his angel and how at this time of day they would be having a late lunch or Crowley would already start cooking for their dinner.

Or they would curl up on the couch before the fireplace together and Aziraphale would read with that beautiful voice of his.

Crowley sighed. And tried to think of nothing at all. 

Which was why it took him a while to notice the gaggle of children gathered around his table, looking at Crowley strangely.

Crowley wasn’t sure what they all wanted from him.

“I’m Adam,” said what appeared to be the leader of the little group. “We’re the Them, who are you?”

“Crowley,” said Crowley.

“Why are you in Tadfield,” asked the little girl.

“Ngk,” said Crowley.

“Are you a demon?” asked a brown-haired little boy. “Or a warlock? My name is Warlock, you know. But I’m not a real Warlock, are you one?”

“Not a demon,” muttered Crowley. “Not a warlock either, I don’t think.”

“Of course he’s not! Actually, he has no horns, so he couldn’t be a demon!” This time it was a boy with glasses that spoke.

“That’s exactly what a demon would say, wouldn’t it?” chirped in the last one of the boys, absentmindedly wiping his fingers on an already soiled shirt.

“We should talk to Anathema,” said the leader. “She’s a witch! She can decide, she knows that sort of stuff.”

His little group nodded and then they disappeared, leaving Crowley to stare at his wine, bewildered about what had just transpired.

In the end, he shrugged and turned back to his drink.

\---

When the five kids loudly arrived on Anathema’s doorstep, she was doing what she liked best: reading in her great-grandmother Agnes Nutter’s book of prophecy.

It was a family heirloom and contained all true prophecies, which is why Anathema liked reading it.

It also contained a prophecy which told Anathema that some kids were to lead her to someone who needed help desperately one day. So desperately in fact, that there were not one but two whole prophecies dedicated just for him.

Anathema and her mother and  _ her _ mother before her had spent their lives deciphering Agnes’ prophecies, but some of the predictions were still a mystery to Anathema. Which was why she liked solving them, trying to do the right thing that would lead her to the fate her ancestor had seen for her.

This was also why Anathema always followed the kids when they had something to show her, as she was never sure when she would be needed. Adam and his friends didn’t think much of it other than that they had found a cool friend who also was a witch.

Anathema let the Them drag her to the tavern without much protest, of course taking the Nice and Accurate Prophecies with her.

\---

“I never asked to be like this,” Crowley sighed into his bottle of wine. By now he was already several bottles past what would still count as “better judgment”. He didn’t care.

“I never asked to be someone my angel doesn’t want to be around. He liked me before he knew about that! Well, I think he liked me. He smiled at me often and we danced! You don’t do that to people who you don’t like, right? But he called us ‘reluctant roommates’ and said he didn’t like me! And after I gave him a bonding ring!”

Crowley waved for a new bottle of wine and the old man that was probably the tavern’s keep brought him one, obviously not one to care if a shady stranger decided to drink his life savings away in his tavern.

“I never asked to be like this! I was just minding my own business one day and then oh, lookie here, it's Lucifer and the guys.”

“And they said ‘Here, Crawly, you know what to do’, even though I’m  _ Crow _ ley and I did not know what to do because what they wanted was  _ wrong _ ! Even though they were just pack, you know, family. That’s why that- that thing with Ligur, that was just an  _ accident _ ! I never asked for this! But somehow angel found out anyways! And then he gave the ring back! You can’t give the ring  _ back! _ You can’t!”

He had no idea what time it was or how long he had already spent drowning his sorrows about Aziraphale when a figure slid into the chair on the other side of his table.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked blearily before blinking and realizing that even with sunglasses on the young lady in front of him could never be his angel. So he just sighed and went back to his bottle.

“Hello,” said the young lady.

Crowley blinked and noticed that the five kids from earlier were accompanying her.

“I’m Anathema.”

“Crowley,” said Crowley and had a strange feeling of déjà vu. He also wasn’t sure why he kept giving strangers his name, but he was too drunk to properly think about it.

“ _ Crow _ ley!” exclaimed the young lady. “Of course!”

Then she rummaged around in her satchel and produced a piece of paper that she then pushed under Crowley’s nose.

Crowley squinted at the paper, then he pushed up his glasses and squinted some more, but the letters were wobbling around in his vision and he couldn’t make out a word.

He nodded at the paper and gave it back to Anathema, not sure what she wanted of him but figuring, if he would just play along, she would leave him alone eventually.

“See!” came a shout to Crowley’s left, from the little boy that had called himself Warlock earlier. “Have you seen his eyes? I told you he was a demon!”

“Not a demon,” said Crowley again, distracted by what was happening around him that he had a hard time focussing on any of the excited children.

“Then what  _ are _ you?” asked one of them, Crowley couldn’t make out, who.

“Kids,” said Anathema, loudly and the volume rang in Crowley’s ears. “Calm down, let me handle it. He’s not a demon. And he is currently very drunk and probably hasn’t even read what I just handed him, has he?” 

She directed her gaze that seemed wise beyond her years and also slightly mischievous at Crowley, and Crowley felt like he was a frog on a dissection table. Or maybe like he was a frog playing a complicated game of chess without even knowing he was playing and his opponent was… maybe that metaphor had run from Crowley by now. Why was he a frog again?

Then Crowley remembered Aziraphale and forgot about the children and the young lady and looked into his bottle to see if he had to ask for more.

A hand stopped him.

“Drink this,” said Anathema and held up a little vial filled with a clear liquid.

“Wha’s that?”

“A potion,” Anathema said. “It will make you sober. Then we can talk. I’m a witch, you know.”

“I don wanna be sober,” complained Crowley.

“Because of your boyfriend you were talking about? What was he called? Azra-”

“Aziraphale,” sighed Crowley.

“Yes, him. You have to read this though, this is a prophecy and it is entirely correct and I think it’s about you. And you can’t read when you are this drunk. So you need to sober up.”

“I don’t need a pr- proph- that thing you said.”

Anathema sighed.

“Will you listen to me, when I read it to you, then? You can decide if you want to drink my potion afterwards.”

Crowley nodded.

_ “In the 9th Houre affter Dawn _ _  
_ _ On the daye of the Ground's Hog _ _  
_ _ Thou shalt meet a Crowe _ _  
_ _ On two legs and two wyngs _ _  
_ _ And no legs at alle, _ _  
_ _ Who drynketh and cryeth _ _  
_ _ Of loste love. _ _  
_ _ Followe the chyldren, _ _  
_ _ This Crowe be thy Sign. _

**_Beware! There be Fyre!_ ** _ ” _

Anathema paused and looked at Crowley. “Don’t you see? Crowe!  _ Crow _ ley! It’s Groundhog Day too and you have been drinking because of your boyfriend and the children lead me to you. This is about you! My great-grandmother Agnes wrote about  _ you _ !”

“How does your great-grandmother know I’m a shifter,” whispered Crowley, suddenly much more in control over his senses now that he was slowly grasping the gravity of Anathema’s words.

“A shifter? Where did you get that idea from?”

Then the little boy with the glasses snatched the paper out of Anathema’s hands and the children gathered in a circle to read the strange prophecy for themselves.

Crowley blinked and put away his bottle of wine.

“I’ll take that potion now, I think.”

Anathema beamed and handed him the vial. A few gulps later and Crowley immediately felt the veil of drunkenness lift from his mind.

He missed it almost immediately.

“So,” asked Crowley once he was himself again. “Why did your great-grandmother write prophecies about, presumably, me?”

“That thing is weird,” complained the disheveled little boy. “It makes no sense at all! What is that part about the legs and wings?”

“I still think he’s a demon,” muttered Warlock. “Why else are his eyes so weird.”

Crowley looked down at the kids and then studied the young lady before him.

“I am not entirely sure why all of you care so much about my person. Also, I am pretty certain some topics should not be discussed in such a public area or with… strangers.”

“Nonsense,” came a cheerful voice behind him, startling him with its unexpectedness. “We’re all friends here and I for one, am curious about this! Besides, we’re hardly strangers anymore, not after you’ve told the whole tavern about your lost love!”

A very colorfully dressed lady with bright red hair came up to the table and sat down at their table without a care.

“Hello darlings, my name is Madame Tracy. My husband owns this tavern.”

In the corner behind the counter, the tavern keep grunted in reply.

“Now now, Anathema, you were saying? We all want to know!”

“First  _ I _ want to know what  _ you _ meant with your comment!” Anathema turned to Crowley.

By now Crowley had realized that he would not be losing his little audience any time soon, so he resigned himself to his fate. It didn’t really matter much anyways.

“Thou shalt meet a Crowe, On two legs and two wyngs, And no legs at alle. I’m a shapeshifter, I have a snake form, hence my eyes, and a raven form. Still, not a demon though, sorry to disappoint.”

He had thought the kids would lose interest after that, but instead, they got even more excited.

“A shapeshifter! Show us! Show us!”

“Not in here,” said Crowley and the kids seemed disappointed.

Anathema had meanwhile pulled out more papers.

“Yes well, now that this is over with. It is confirmed that this prophecy is about you, so I have to show you  _ your _ prophecies now.”

“ _ My _ prophecies?”

“Yes, Agnes has written instructions to give you specifically two of her premonitions. This one is just for me to find the right person.”

“What is so special about me then? This makes no sense!”

“Oh, but it does, apparently, you’re in great need of help! See!”

She handed Crowley the papers while she recited the text from memory for the others.

_ “Eye for eye _ _  
_ _ Be vengeance call; _ _  
_ _ Ande Moth's wyng _ _  
_ _ For Reptyle's hide _ _  
_ _ Be taken.” _

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, immediately alarmed.

He felt the eyes on him but didn’t regard them, instead choosing to read and reread the text multiple times.

Crowley knew what it meant of course. He immediately understood.

Aziraphale was in danger.

And it was all Crowley’s fault.

“I see, you know what this is supposed to tell you,” Anathema interrupted his thoughts. “That makes it easier. My family and I could never quite decipher what it was supposed to mean. But that’s not all, read the other one. You can explain it later. I fear we are a bit pressed for time.”

But Crowley was already reading the other one when Anathema recited for the others.

_ “He danceth with curse-spun goffamer wyngs _ _  
_ _ As he danceth with Fyre and Steel; _ _  
_ _ Ande shall dance no more _ _  
_ _ If the flames doth fade upon his blade. _ __  
_ For that be Death to the mann _ _  
_ __ Wythinne the Monster.”

This one was not as obvious as the last one and Crowley could not make sense of it. He cursed to himself trying to wreck himself for an answer.

“What does it mean?! It makes no sense! What is this supposed to tell me?! Is this supposed to be about me again, because of the wings?!”

“Explain the first one to us. I think if we get up to speed, more minds might solve this mystery quicker.”

“The other one is about Aziraphale,” Crowley got out, he wasn’t even thinking about talking to these literal strangers about his secrets. Currently, the danger his angel might be in had a far higher priority than a few secrets.

“Reptile’s hide, that’s about a packmate, well, former pack mate of mine. Ligur. He’s a chameleon. Reptile. Well, he was. He’s dead. It’s kind of my fault. That’s why it’s vengeance. Hastur, that’s Ligur’s friend. He’s after me. And I think Agnes is warning me, us, about Hastur coming after Aziraphale instead of me. Probably because I stayed at Aziraphale’s home for a while and Hastur might have tracked me. So it’s my fault and I need to get back to the castle, Aziraphale needs me. But what does the other prophecy mean? It feels important, like a warning! It mentions someone dying, for God’s sake!”

“By castle, do ya mean the old thing in the woods, don’t ya, laddie?” The tavern keep now joined the discussion. Apparently Crowley’s plight was interesting enough to garner so much attention.

“Yes, why?”

“That’s someone’s home?” asked the little girl excitedly. “That’s wicked! We thought it was a ghost castle! And this Azra-fellow has a flaming sword?! Can we meet him?”

Crowley paused.

“How do you know about the flaming sword?”

“ _ As he danceth with Fyre and Steel; Ande shall dance no more if the flames doth fade upon his blade.  _ Sounds to me like he’s fighting and there are flames on his blade. Could be a knife, but swords are cooler,” she explained matter of factly.

“Clever girl,” praised Crowley, albeit a bit distractedly. “Also I am surprised you know of the castle. As far as I know, no one has ever been there except Aziraphale. I thought no one knew about it.”

“Oh, that castle is a bit of a village mystery. Would make for a great tourist spot with all the stories and rumors floating around about it. That is, it would if we would get any visitors. You are the first one in quite a while, Mr. Crowley,” Madame Tracy answered.

“Just Crowley, please. And what stories exist about the castle?”

“The ghost castle one Pepper mentioned is actually the most prevalent one. It is the most likely after all because no one has ever seen anyone leave the castle,” the boy with the glasses said, smartly pushing said glasses up his nose.

“Given that there  _ is _ , in fact, a curse upon the castle, or I guess maybe just upon the resident of it, that story is probably the one closest to the truth,” Anathema added.

“‘ _ Curse-spun gossamer wings’,  _ what’s that sort of bollocks? Is it Witchcraft?” asked the tavern keep.

Anathema rolled her eyes at that but continued.

“I am not entirely sure. My family and I thought it would mean that someone was cursed. And the curse has something to do with wings. But not feathery wings, since that’s not gossamer. Also, the prophecy mentions a monster and a ‘death of the man within’, paired together with the condition that flames go out on a blade. I guess that would mean that the flaming sword you mentioned would no longer be flaming. So-”

“So,” interrupted Crowley her as he finally,  _ finally _ , connected the dots. “Someone was cursed with a monstrous form with gossamer wings. And he dances, he  _ fights _ , with a flaming sword, fire and steel. But if the flames on the flaming sword go out… the man within dies and the monster is left. The curse overtakes him.”

He didn’t think he was breathing anymore.

“ _ Aziraphale, _ ” Crowley gasped.

It made so much sense. It would explain so much.

“I take it, that boyfriend of yours is that cursed man, eh, laddie. Bloody witches, making everyone’s lives difficult.”

“It’s not witchcraft, Mr. Shadwell, it’s a  _ curse _ . That’s a whole different type of magic,” Anathema sighed.

“That’s  _ Sergeant  _ Shadwell to you, witch!”

“Aziraphale is currently a giant moth,” whispered Crowley, ignoring their antics, his eyes wide and his face pale.

“A giant moth?! Wicked!” the kids exclaimed.

“Gossamer wings,” agreed Anathema. “And  _ Moth's _ wing for reptile's hide be taken.”

“Aziraphale is cursed to look like a giant moth and he has a flaming sword and if that goes out, he will  _ stay _ a moth and the man within… will…  _ die. _ And Hastur is currently on his way to the castle because he is after me, for revenge. And Aziraphale will fight him. With his flaming sword. Which might cause the flames to go out or Hastur... might defeat him. Aziraphale is in danger. And it is  _ all my fault. _ ”

“Shh, sweetie, don’t blame yourself. For now, your boyfriend needs help. So what can we do?” Madame Tracy put a soothing hand on Crowley’s elbow.

“We?”

“Well, you don’t think you’re gonna do this alone, sweetie. Not after we helped you figure out these prophecies! Besides, that castle has been pretty much a local myth for so long! Of course we want to help with a curse upon our local legend! That would be like making history!”

For the first time since Crowley had left the castle yesterday morning, -  _ just yesterday morning, _ it felt like an eternity ago -, Crowley let a tentative smile grace his lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I think I could really use some help. Some… friends… on my side.”

“Of course,” agreed Anathema. “That’s what friends are for.”

They all looked so determined. The kids stood around the table, making themselves a bit taller by standing straighter. Even the tavern keep had come around the counter, now with his apron left in the kitchen and exchanged for an old rifle that he was now busy loading. Madame Tracy stepped up to him and put her hand gently, but decidedly on the rifle and pushed it away.

“We are not bringing a gun, it’s not needed, dearie.”

“Not even the Thunder Gun of Witchfinder Colonel Dalrymple?”

“No means no. We wouldn’t want somebody to get injured,” she said and took the gun out of his hand and put it back on its hook on the wall.

Crowley had not expected to find  _ friends _ , and most certainly not this bunch, when he stumbled into the little village just a few hours ago. He had not expected to find anything today except a drunken sleep that would hopefully make him forget the entirety of the past two days.

Instead, he had found out what would probably count as his angel’s biggest secret.

And  _ friends _ . Because that’s what they were after helping him solve the mystery of some premonitions from a long-dead relative of a witch.

Crowley finally dared to feel hopeful again.

“We forgot something though,” a voice cut through the suddenly light atmosphere in the room.

Immediately everyone turned to Adam.

The little boy had not said anything during their deductions, but he was still holding the little paper containing the very first of the prophecies. The one that told Anathema that she would find Crowley.

“What is that last sentence supposed to be about?” Adam continued.

“What last sentence?”

**_“Beware! There be Fyre!”_ **

Everyone looked around, confused.

The room was silent.

“ _ FIRE!” _ someone shouted just outside the door.

Crowley suddenly found himself running through the room, through the door, onto the street. The others followed on his heels.

_ “FIRE!” _ shouted someone else.

And Crowley saw the thick, black cloud of ash and smoke rising from the forest.

“Aziraphale,” he whispered.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha HA! I told you that castle was a fire hazard!  
> And of course, Crowley needed some help to figure out all the clues he's been ignoring since day one... he was too distracted by Aziraphale, that's his excuse  
> I also hope you like the Tadfield cast, I love them all so much, I just had to throw them in too! Also, it is an homage to the villagers in the Beauty and the Beast movie, though I put a bit of a twist on it.
> 
> Translations for the Agnes Nutter speak with a huge Thanks to my storycoach Wy, who made these prophecies possible:
> 
> 1)  
> "In the 9th hour after dawn  
> on Groundhog Day  
> you shall meet a crow  
> on two legs and two wings  
> and no legs at all,  
> who drinks and cries  
> over lost love.  
> Follow the children,  
> this crow shall be your sign.  
> Beware! There will be fire!"
> 
> 2)  
> "An eye for an eye  
> To take revenge;  
> And a moth's life  
> For that of a reptile  
> Shall be taken."
> 
> 3)  
> "He dances with curse-spun gossamer wings  
> as he dances with fire and steel;  
> and he shall dance no more  
> if the flames on his blade go out.  
> For that will be death to the man  
> within the monster."
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I will see you all tomorrow!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hastur arrives at the castle

Aziraphale didn’t sleep that night.

It didn’t surprise him, not after Crowley had left and he had threatened Gabriel. It just didn’t seem right to just go to sleep afterwards.

Instead, Aziraphale had found an old armchair in some dark corner of the castle to just sit on, he didn’t even have the mind to read something.

Before Crowley had arrived, Aziraphale had spent most of his day in that particular armchair, though he usually was surrounded by books when he sat there.

After Crowley had arrived and after they had spoken and Crowley had actually seen Aziraphale and not run away, Aziraphale had not used that chair again. Instead, he had migrated to the couch in front of the fireplace, where Crowley was.

Crowley had changed so much about Aziraphale’s life.

And now he was gone. Forever.

Besides, even if Crowley ever came back, for whatever reason that really did not exist, Aziraphale knew it was far too late. He had seen the state of his flaming sword when he threatened Gabriel with it.

The flames would most likely not even survive a week, maybe not even a few days.

Maybe the flames would not even survive this day. Not, if Aziraphale would use the sword to fight Hastur. Aziraphale had already decided that he would. It was the only way to ensure that Hastur did not go after Crowley when he didn’t find him in the castle.

It was the only way that Aziraphale could protect Crowley before the curse took over and he was gone.

But, if Crowley ever came back, Aziraphale would not be there.

And the last time he had seen Crowley, he had hurt him so, so much.

Really, Aziraphale deserved what was coming for him.

Aziraphale didn’t know the precise time when Hastur would arrive and even if he had, it’s not like he would have passed his time with anything. 

So he just sat in silence and darkness in what used to be his favorite armchair.

He watched, unmoving as the sun went up behind the trees of the forest. He listened as the world slowly awoke from its slumber.

It was a beautiful, sunny day. It did not fit his mood in the slightest. He wanted to draw all the curtains closed, wanted to chase after the blissful darkness in which he could hide from the whole universe.

But he could not move a single muscle.

So he just sat,

and waited,

for his inevitable demise.

\---

Aziraphale knew immediately when Hastur arrived, the sun outside almost in its zenith. It was as if he could feel it. As if he was so attuned to the very realm that held the castle that he could sense intruders.

Maybe he was.

He had felt it when Crowley first arrived as well.

But still, Aziraphale did not move.

There was no sense in moving immediately. He would die one way or another and a few more minutes were of no consequence.

Instead, he watched, no, he  _ sensed _ how the intruder moved around his home.

He felt how Hastur opened the door quietly. Heard, how Hastur cursed the coldness of the still lingering winter winds. Knew, how Hastur hated Crowley with a passion, for whatever he had done and for forcing him out into the cold to seek his vengeance.

He saw, like an omniscient spectator how Hastur trudged up the stairs, still quietly, as if following a trail, a scent, a vision.

As if Hastur still sensed Crowley’s presence in these walls.

Hastur didn’t hesitate in his movements. Maybe he did have a plan.

Aziraphale watched as Hastur moved through the west wing. Watched, as he entered Aziraphale’s room. Watched, as his eyes rested on the painting but how his eyes did not linger on it. Watched, as Hastur, still as if following a scent, found the hidden door.

Hastur barely spared the flaming sword a glace, it was not remarkable with its flickering, dying flames. No, Hastur looked around the room, confused, as if he was searching something.

“Damn you, Crawley, what trick are you trying to pull now?!”

Then Hastur stopped and picked up a book. It was not a very special book, just something lying around.

What was special was what laid inside.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened when Hastur pulled Crowley’s ring out of the book.

And then, he was moving.

“A bonding ring?” scoffed Hastur. “Not a very powerful one when I can’t even feel its magic when I’m holding it. The power I felt must have been when Crawley made it. Must’ve taken a lot out of him for me to feel that surge of power. Didn’t do him good when this is the end result. Looks like his two forms is the only party trick up Crawley’s sleeve. But never mind all this, that worm was here just last night, I can smell it. Now I only need to find the little traitor.”

The nasty words reverberated in the castle and Aziraphale could hear Hastur’s voice echo in the walls as he glided through the corridors and halls, in pursuit.

His wings made barely a rustle as he flew, leaving behind only a trail of powdered dust.

And Aziraphale was fast. It took him barely a moment to cross the whole length of the castle.

When he arrived, landing behind the intruder without a sound, Hastur was still holding the ring, Crowley’s ring,  _ Aziraphale’s ring, _ in his grubby little fingers.

Aziraphale hadn’t even realized that Crowley had left it there. That after giving it back, Crowley had gone up here to hide it. Aziraphale hadn’t felt the magic of the ring; he had done a good job suppressing the energy, hiding it from view. He had thought Crowley had taken the last piece Aziraphale had of him with him when he left.

But he hadn’t.

Because it was Aziraphale’s.

And Aziraphale did not want anyone else touching it.

Then Hastur turned around, finally noticing the presence in the doorstep.

Aziraphale knew what Hastur saw: a huge, monstrous silhouette of a beast, only barely visible in the fire’s dying light, the rest of him cast in shadows and blocking the only way out.

The scream Hastur let out was shrill and loud, cutting through the castle’s silence like a knife. Aziraphale let him scream.

After the sound, the silence seemed even more oppressive, it fell between them again with a physical weight even as the echoes still rang inside the space.

“Put. It. Back,” growled Aziraphale, his rumbling voice low and dangerous. There was no question what he was talking about.

Hastur glanced at the ring in his hand, then back at Aziraphale. He had gathered his composure and connected the dots rather quickly, considering he had just screamed in deathly terror not a minute ago.

“Where is he?” Hastur asked. There was no question  _ who _ he was talking about.

“Somewhere far away from you. You will not find him. Now. Put. It. Back.”

“Or we could make a deal: You tell me where he went and then I’ll put it down. It’s not like you wanted that pathetic trinket anyways. In fact, you rejected it, otherwise, you’d be wearing it. So, what do you say, are you willing to help me or will you get in my way?”

Aziraphale didn’t even bother to grace this with an answer.

Instead, he lunged, his sword instantly materializing in his hands.

Aziraphale was fast, but Hastur was faster. Hastur dropped to the floor as a frog, Aziraphale’s sword slashing empty air where his throat had been just a few seconds ago.

In two powerful strides, the frog had jumped through the open door out of the room, then, not breaking in stride, Hastur was back in his human form and slammed the painting shut behind himself, trapping Aziraphale in the room.

Aziraphale had originally hoped he would be able to handle the situation as he had with Gabriel, had hoped that it wouldn’t get as far as a real fight. But it looked like he wouldn’t be so lucky.

A golden glint caught Aziraphale’s eye, in the haste of the transformation, Hastur had dropped Aziraphale’s ring.

Even though he shouldn’t be wasting precious seconds, Aziraphale bent down and picked the ring up. He inspected it for a moment and found it unharmed. It was cold to the touch, though, icy cold and burning in Aziraphale’s hand. Was that a side effect of Aziraphale suppressing its magic? He went to slip it on his finger, despite how its coldness ate into Aziraphale’s fingers, but then sighed and thought better of it.

It wouldn’t feel right to put it back on when Crowley wasn’t here. It wouldn’t feel right to just act like nothing had happened. No, Aziraphale did not deserve the ring, not after his actions toward Crowley.

So, he put the ring on the flaming sword’s currently empty pedestal. Maybe he would come for it at a later time.

After he made sure that Crowley was safe, forever.

The few seconds it had cost Aziraphale now came back to haunt him though. Hastur had apparently had enough time to push something heavy in front of the secret door, trapping Aziraphale inside.

It was probably a bookshelf.

He had to find a way out of the room. Aziraphale had to think, fast.

But...

No, he didn’t need to think, he  _ knew _ what he had to do. And he  _ knew _ what it would cost him.

There was no choice, he just had to get over himself. And do it.

There wasn’t even any hesitation in Aziraphale’s mind. Not now, not ever.

Because no matter what, Crowley was more important to him than anything in the world. Even more important than some books, more important than Aziraphale’s duality.

Aziraphale would give it all up in the blink of an eye if it meant Crowley was safe.

Aziraphale raised his flaming sword and cut through the painting and through the bookcase behind.

Even though the flames were no longer as strong as they had been at the beginning of Aziraphale’s curse, it still took them only a few seconds to start eating through the old, dusty and dry wood and paper.

The flames grew higher and more powerful and soon the door to the secret room was completely engulfed.

Leaving behind only ash.

Aziraphale stepped through the flaming doorway like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his past.

In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the painting, that had marked the door, burning. It brought Aziraphale not a small amount of satisfaction as he watched Gabriel’s face burn to dust.

Then the flames reached Aziraphale’s own face and in a matter of moments, it too was gone. The last remnant of Aziraphale the human. Now, forever gone.

Aziraphale watched as the fire spread through the whole room, the dry paper catching the flames immediately.

Flames of crimson and orange dancing around the room, eating everything in their path.

Funny, how Gabriel did get his wish in the end.

Funny, how Aziraphale had once thought that this sight would be the sight of his  _ whole life burning _ .

It wasn’t his whole life.

Not anymore.

Crowley was.

Aziraphale would do anything for Crowley, even let his books burn. Besides, it was not like Aziraphale would miss them once the curse took over.

A beast had no use for books.

And then Aziraphale went after Hastur, letting the flames go on about their rampant path.

Hastur had moved fast, but he was still thinking that Crowley was somewhere in the castle. So instead of running away, he was searching the castle when Aziraphale caught up to him in the main room, the room with the fireplace where he and Crowley had spent most of their time in.

Hastur had pulled out a weapon of his own by now and was no longer taken by surprise when Aziraphale attacked.

He held an old short sword in his hands, not a flaming one but a weapon nonetheless, and parried Aziraphale’s slash with relative ease.

But Aziraphale was relentless and fierce. Now, Aziraphale really had nothing left to lose, but  _ everything _ to win.

He would protect Crowley at all costs.

Steel met steel as they danced around the room; Aziraphale’s sheer wings spread behind him like a cloak, the patterns on them like countless glowing eyes, gleaming in his sword’s dying light. Behind him, fire and flames danced Aziraphale’s last hurrah.

Aziraphale’s last dance as human underneath the beast.

His last dance for Crowley, because he would nevermore be able to dance  _ with _ Crowley.

And so Aziraphale fought.

But his opponent was smart and knew how to fight dirty. Hastur moved around the room partly as human, partly as animal, taking Aziraphale by surprise with every sword thrust. He even used Aziraphale’s books as shields.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale’s sword slashed through everything in its path and the flames spread rapidly and engulfed them.

Crowley had been right about the fire hazard.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” screeched Hastur. “Have you lost your mind?! I don’t have the ring anymore! Do you have a death wish?! You will kill us both!”

“I will never let you harm Crowley.”

“You’re protecting that traitor?! You really do have a death wish!”

Hastur’s attacks grew more fierce, more desperate, more hateful.

“I will kill that snake and no one will stand in my way!”

“Over my dead body! You will have to get through me first!”

“That can be arranged!”

Hastur thrust his sword and Aziraphale was not able to parry it in time. It painfully slashed into Aziraphale’s wing, cleanly cutting through the sheer membrane.

“That is for Ligur! You can pass on that message!”

He evaded a slash from Aziraphale, turned around and ran.

Aziraphale heaved, clutching the wound, gasping for breath for a moment.

Then he swallowed down the pain and went after Hastur.

\---

“Aziraphale!”

Crowley immediately knew where the smoke was coming from. He could see the direction from whence it came. And he could feel the flames, the heat through the bonding ring.

He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner, for not paying attention to anything but his sorrows.

He had felt the sensation through the bond but he had not noticed, had drowned himself in wine and then had been too distracted by the prophecies to pay attention to the bond.

Aziraphale was in danger and Crowley could already be too late to save him.

Crowley knew what the castle looked like, knew how many old, dry books lied around, just waiting to catch sparks. The whole castle would be ablaze in a matter of minutes.

Judging from the smoke, it probably already was.

Dammit, he had  _ known _ that place was a dangerous fire hazard.

It was almost certainly Hastur’s doing. Hastur had always liked playing with fire and if Hastur thought that Crowley was in the castle, maybe he had set the fire to smoke Crowley out. Crowley couldn’t know for sure, but he knew knew  _ knew _ it was his fault.

Just like the prophecies predicted. Moth’s wing for reptile’s hide.

Crowley was already running towards the castle before his thoughts even registered.

He had to get to the castle, fast. He had to save Aziraphale. He had to be there, now.

He knew, he had to think, to figure out how to get through the woods fast. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to get from the castle to Tadfield last night, he most certainly hadn’t been going fast then, he had slept for a few hours and he had probably walked around in circles for a good duration of the night as well.

Desperately, Crowley tried to calculate how long he had taken yesterday and how fast he could be there now, tried to picture how high the fire would burn by the time he would arrive.

He would be too late, he could already feel it in his bones. The castle was burning  _ now _ , when he got there in a few  _ hours _ , he would only find charred remains in a pile of ash.

But still Crowley was running, faster and faster, as quick as his gangly legs could carry him.

He hadn’t even crossed the whole village yet when he stumbled and fell. Wasting precious seconds of his time.

He tried to stumble to his feet to keep running, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Easy there, sweetie! You’ll catch your death if you run into the woods like that!”

Crowley tried to shake Madame Tracy’s hand off but the elderly lady held fast and in his state of panic, Crowley couldn’t muster the necessary strength to fight it.

“I have to get to him! I have to save him! Angel is in danger! I have to!”

“You need to calm down first! You can’t reach him if you fall to your death if you stumble in the woods!”

It was then that Crowley noticed that his whole little entourage from the tavern had followed him. They were all catching their breaths after trying to match Crowley’s reckless pace.

“Breathe, sweetie. You need to think clearly if you wanna save your dearheart.”

Crowley took in a few gasping, shuddering breaths even if he felt sick to his stomach. She was right, he had to think clearly if he wanted to be of any help to his angel.

“Actually you will never reach him in time when you run,” gasped the bespectacled boy. “The running speed of an average man in the woods is actually not very high.”

“We can get the horses!” exclaimed Adam.

“You’re right, we have to get to young Newton. I bet he will lend us the horses for this special occasion! I think you rallied up the whole village,” Madame Tracy chuckled a bit.

“Already on it,” said Anathema and disappeared around a corner.

“I’ve already gathered the men!” said Mr. Shadwell proudly.

It was only then that Crowley noticed that not only those had followed him that helped him figure out Agnes’ riddles but the whole tavern and what looked to be at least half the village.

“Wha-”

“Well, laddie, it’s not every day that good ol’ Tadfield sees some action! And ev’ryone wants to help, we’ve all been wondering about that castle in the woods. Ev’ryone knows about it after all. And now it’s burning and only ya seem to know why. So we follow ya.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, eloquently.

He had not expected this amount of  _ support. _ From literal strangers.

Strangers that were willing to drop everything in a heartbeat and follow him to a burning castle.

It felt strangely like what Crowley had always hoped his…  _ pack _ would feel like. Crowley couldn’t even fight the tears streaking down his face.

“Oh,” he gasped out again.

At that moment Anathema showed up with a confused young man and a dozen or so horses in tow.

“I brought Newt and the horses!” Anathema said. “Someone will have to lead the way, but somehow I doubt our dear Crowley is in the right mindset to do it.”

“I can lead them!” exclaimed Adam.

“Adam?” asked Madame Tracy. “Are you sure? This is a bit too dangerous for you kids!”

“We ride to the castle often to play there! Our hideout is close to it! It’s the best spot to play! Besides, we don’t want to miss the action!”

His little squad of friends had already climbed on what appeared to be their own horses since they appeared to be slightly smaller than the rest of the horses.

“Still we should ask your parents first!”

“Our parents are coming with us!” said Warlock. “They don’t want to miss the fun either, so it’s okay. Anyways, we’re supposed to be in a hurry! The smoke’s still there!”

It took barely a few seconds for all the people to find their horses and get ready. Crowley was still sitting dazedly on the street. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around all the things that had happened.

Anathema had not yet mounted her horse but instead held its reign and walked with it to Crowley.

At first, Crowley thought she would give him the reigns since he had no personal steed. But Anathema just crouched down to him.

“Have you calmed down enough?” she asked. “Breathe a few times. You need to be able to think clearly when you want to help your Aziraphale.”

“I am thinking clearly! I just need to save him!”

“No, you weren’t. If you were thinking clearly, you would have transformed by now. A raven flies faster than a human can run.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. It was not the first time he had forgotten about his raven form in an emergency. The snake just came easier to him. For some reason, despite having a duality for years now, Crowley still forgot about it in a state of panic.

So Crowley nodded, breathed a few times and then shifted into his raven.

He made himself a bit bigger than normal, he needed to be faster now and a bit more wingspan would help him with that.

Anathema nodded as well and mounted her steed.

“Lead the way, Adam!” she called out. “Crowley, you go ahead. You can get there faster than we can.”

And then they moved out.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! There will be another chapter later today!  
> We are slowly but surely coming to the end...


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the mist  
> Through the woods  
> Through the darkness and the shadows  
> It's a nightmare but it's one exciting ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if this is a spoiler for this chapter (at least, if you haven't seen the movie), I feel obligated to tell you that this is the chapter where that Character Death tag comes in.
> 
> So, TW: Major Character Death  
> Proceed with caution

How Crowley arrived at the castle was a blur, despite gathering his thoughts earlier, the panic was still running hot through Crowley’s veins.

Aziraphale’s home was fiercely blazing when Crowley got there.

The fire had spread through the whole building, the flames lapping at the stone walls, probably already having consumed the most of Aziraphale’s book collection.

But Crowley could not see his angel anywhere.

Aziraphale was still inside.

Crowley was ready to fly in without a second thought but then the big wooden door collapsed in a rush of sparks, stopping Crowley in his tracks.

He had to think this through properly, he couldn’t just rush in and get Aziraphale and himself killed.

So he rounded the castle as closely as he dared without singing his feathers prematurely, trying to find an opening where he could fly in, trying to spot Aziraphale inside.

By the time he had flown around the castle the third time in his desperation, the villagers arrived.

Crowley swooped low to join them.

“I can’t see him!” he shouted in between his shifting. “I have to go in blind!”

“Be careful!” Anathema said. “We’ll try to get the flames under control but I doubt we will be able to save much.”

Only then did Crowley realize that the villagers had brought barrels of water to battle the flames. They really were thinking much more clearly than him.

“There’s a greenhouse in the back, there’s a water source there as well! You can just tear down the walls to get there! The fire hasn’t gotten to it yet.”

Somewhere inside, it hurt Crowley to say that. He knew it would mean the destruction of Eden and the death of most, if not all of his plants, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except for Aziraphale.

In just a few months that Crowley had spent with his angel, Aziraphale had become his whole life.

And Crowley would fight to protect it, protect  _ him _ .

He nodded a brief thanks to the villagers and transformed back into a raven. He was smaller and more agile that way.

Then, he flew into the castle.

Despite the flames, Crowley was still able to recognize the hallways and rooms inside. He knew the castle like his back pocket.

But he had no idea where he could find Aziraphale.

So, he did the first thing that came to mind.

He flew into the west wing, following the pull to the bonding ring.

Crowley found Aziraphale’s room in shambles. He could see signs of a struggle. The remnants of a bookcase laid on the floor in front of what used to be the painting marking the secret door.

The painting was now only a bare frame, hanging limply from the wall. A memory of the most beautiful cerulean eyes flashed in front of Crowley’s eyes, but now was not the time to mourn a man Crowley had only seen in dreams.

Crowley found the ring lying on the pedestal that held Aziraphale’s flaming sword.

The pedestal was empty.

The pedestal was the only thing in the room that was still standing in the middle of the charred remains of the room, the books that had rested against it too, were completely unharmed.

The bonding ring had done its job perfectly.

The ring had been carefully placed right in the center of the pedestal. As if replacing the sword it had previously held.

Aziraphale had obviously found it and purposefully put it there, instead of putting it on again.

Crowley ignored the sting of rejection in his heart.

Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity and unrequited love.

He picked the ring up carefully in his claws - even if it meant that he now had to deal with the frigid cold of the rejected bonding ring - and immediately felt how the heat got noticeably better to endure.

The ring protected whatever held it after all.

And Crowley had to get it to Aziraphale.

The fact that Aziraphale wasn’t in the west wing made things more complicated. Crowley didn’t have the time to systematically search the whole castle and over the roaring of the flames and the groaning of old wood collapsing, Crowley couldn’t hear where Aziraphale might be.

He just had to follow his gut instincts and hope that Aziraphale was in one of the rooms they had spent most of their time together.

Crowley had to get to the main room.

The room that held the fireplace and the couch and many happy memories, as well as the memories of Aziraphale telling him they weren’t friends.

Luckily for Crowley, he found Aziraphale there.

But, Aziraphale was not alone.

Crowley spotted Hastur almost immediately. There was no mistaking that unwashed figure, that straggly silver hair and those completely black eyes.

Aziraphale had his flaming sword raised and was just parrying a blow from Hastur’s own sword. They were locked in a fierce battle and from what it looked like they had been for a while. Both of them seemingly didn’t care about the fire raging all around them.

Unfortunately for Crowley, Hastur too spotted Crowley almost immediately.

It immediately became obvious that Hastur wasn’t the aggressor in this battle. Hastur had only eyes for Crowley and abandoned the fight with Aziraphale instantly. But Aziraphale had noticed the shift in attention and seized the opportunity it gave him.

With one heavy hit with the back of Aziraphale’s sword, Hastur dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Crowley took in the sight of his angel, noticed the ugly wound in his right wing still bleeding slightly, noticed how his chest heaved with harsh breaths both from exhaustion and the smoke in the room.

Aziraphale waited a second to see if Hastur would get up again, but he seemed to be out for the moment. Then he turned to Crowley.

“What are you doing here?! Do you have a death wish?! Get out of here now! It is too dangerous!” his voice was raspy and harsh from the smoke and heat, but there was a desperation in his eyes that Crowley could not ignore.

Crowley shifted in midair and landed on the floor in his human form.

“I came to rescue you, you idiot! I saw the flames and felt the heat through the ring! I couldn’t just do nothing!”

“So you just thought that flying into a castle  _ literally on fire _ was a  _ good idea?!” _ his voice broke and he dissolved into a coughing fit.

“We don’t have time for this!”

Crowley ducked down under one of Aziraphale’s arms to help carry him out of the castle. Aziraphale immediately all but collapsed onto Crowley.

The second Crowley touched Aziraphale, the magic of the bonding ring enveloped them in a protective shell. Aziraphale must have felt it too because he flinched slightly. He recognized the feel of the magic, Crowley was sure of it.

Crowley pushed the thoughts aside. They could have that conversation later.

“You… you came back,” whispered Aziraphale.

“I did,” answered Crowley without looking Aziraphale in the eyes.

Aziraphale still held his sword in one hand as they limped to the exit in silence, evading the debris falling from the ceiling.

The words between them felt too heavy to be said.

But a few words replayed in both their minds over and over and over again.

_ I missed you. I love you. _

Even those words did not make it past their lips.

Crowley wondered if they ever would.

Only when they finally crossed the threshold of the collapsed main door did they both finally feel like they could breathe once more.

Crowley all but collapsed under Aziraphale’s weight right in the doorway because the adrenaline left him in a rush once he knew safety was in their grasp.

The flaming sword slipped out of Aziraphale’s grasp and clattered to the stone floor beside them.

Immediately Anathema and the kids were there to help them.

The children were completely taken by Aziraphale’s appearance and started rapidly firing questions at him without further ado. Aziraphale looked more than just a bit overwhelmed by all the attention.

Crowley took one look at his angel’s face and dissolved into breathless, mad laughter. After a few seconds, Aziraphale joined in with his own deep, rumbling chuckles.

They were together again.

They were safe.

Everything else, everything heavy and sad hanging between them, all the secrets and all the lies and half-truths, could wait just a few more moments.

Crowley looked up at the sky and despite the smoke from the still raging fire, he could see the sun and cloudless blue sky.

Just for this moment, everything was alright again.

“Aziraphale, I made some new friends. Meet Anathema and the Them. Anathema and the Them, meet Aziraphale. He can answer your questions a bit later, give us a bit of time to breathe.”

Aziraphale, who had been all but pulled away from Crowley by the kids, turned around to smile at Crowley.

Crowley returned the smile and bent down to pick up Aziraphale’s forgotten sword.

The flames dancing around the blade were almost gone, revealing more of the strange symbol underneath, but they were still flickering. Crowley still had time to talk about the curse with Aziraphale, still had time to break it before the curse took over.

Crowley could still recall Aziraphale’s reaction when Crowley had first seen the sword. Back then, the flames had been much higher. Crowley remembered how he had tried to smother the flames with his leather jacket, remembered Aziraphale’s panic when he wrenched Crowley away from the blade before the flames died.

In hindsight, Aziraphale’s panic made more sense. Crowley hadn’t known how  _ close _ he had been to effectively causing Aziraphale’s demise. Now he was glad that Aziraphale had stopped him in time from making the biggest mistake of his entire life.

Crowley chuckled wryly. He had still been right about the fire hazard though. He just wished it hadn’t come to this point. Aziraphale’s beloved books was a far too great cost just for proving Crowley’s point.

“Watch out!” shouted someone suddenly.

Crowley looked up, startled and locked eyes with the widened panicked eyes of his friends pointing at something behind his back.

He whirled around, raising his arms and the flaming sword barely caught Hastur’s blade in time. Hastur’s strike causing it to fly out of Crowley’s lax grip.

And then Hastur was raising his sword again.

“This is for Ligur,” he screeched and brought the blade down.

Crowley raised his arms again to shield himself from the blow.

But it never came. Instead, there was a shove and Crowley fell to the floor.

_ “Crowley!” _ Aziraphale called out as he pushed Crowley out of the sword’s path.

And then Hastur’s sword buried itself in his side.

\---

Aziraphale cried out in pain, his scream more the roar of a beast than the voice of a man. He felt the depth of the wound. He immediately knew he would not survive it long.

Not with half of his wing already cut off and still bleeding, not with a sword buried deep into his side.

Hastur pulled his sword out, ignoring the gush of blood from the wound he had caused. He moved towards Crowley again, his mad eyes intent.

Aziraphale knew Hastur would stop at nothing to see Crowley die. And Aziraphale knew there was only one option.

Hastur raised his sword again.

With one last bout of strength, Aziraphale materialized his flaming sword in his hand one last time and one last time he pushed himself in front of a blow meant for Crowley.

Hastur’s sword pierced through Aziraphale’s heart at the same time Aziraphale’s sword pierced through Hastur’s.

_ “Aziraphale!” _ cried Crowley directly behind Aziraphale, Hastur’s sword had stopped just centimeters from Crowley. Aziraphale’s body had stopped it in time.

Hastur coughed up a bit of blood and then fell backward, Aziraphale’s sword sliding out of his wound.

The flames sizzled quietly and then went out, revealing blackened metal and arcane runes underneath.

Aziraphale chuckled wetly at the sight.

In front of him, Aziraphale’s castle was still ablaze, the fire’s roar was deafening.

The no longer flaming sword slid out of Aziraphale’s limp hands.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered but he did not have the strength to turn around to see him. Then, Aziraphale collapsed.

\---

“No,” Crowley gasped out, his voice not more than a whiff in the wind, barely audible over the roar of flames.

He moved quickly enough to catch Aziraphale’s body before it hit the ground but Aziraphale’s breathing was already distressingly shallow.

“No no no,  _ no, Aziraphale!” _

Crowley cradled Aziraphale’s head in his lap, frantically brushing over his fur in an attempt to soothe both Aziraphale and himself.

“No, no, no, don’t  _ leave me! _ Not  _ now _ , not ever! Aziraphale,  _ angel, _ please, no!”

But they both knew that there was no way this could end in a happy ending.

“Shh, Crowley, it’s alright,” Aziraphale gasped out.

“NO! It’s not! How can you say that! How can you even think that! Angel! Please! Please just… No!”

Tears were streaming down Crowley’s face but he didn’t care.

“Shhh, shhh, my dearest. Don’t cry. You’re safe. All will be well.” Weakly, Aziraphale lifted a hand to gently brush away Crowley’s tears, as if that could brush away the pain.

“You can’t do this  _ now,  _ you  _ can’t! _ Not now, not when I just found out about your curse! We had a chance, a real  _ chance _ to lift it!”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened briefly but he didn’t react further.

“My curse is not important, there was only one way this day could end. My sword would have gone out either way. At least, like this, I can go in your arms, still as… myself… knowing that I saved you. I am just… glad, so, so glad, my dear boy, that I could see you… one last time.”

“No, no, no! Don’t talk like that! No! You’re not going anywhere! You can’t! Please! Don’t leave me alone!”

“You are not alone, my darling. Look around, in just one day you have made so many friends. You will never be alone, you are too amazing for that. All will be well, you will forget me… soon and I can go without regrets.”

“How dare you say that! Angel!”

“There’s just one… one last thing.”

“No, no, no! I won’t allow it! You can’t do that to me, one last thing and then leave forever! You can’t!”

“Crowley,  _ I love you, _ my darling boy.”

“ _ Oh,” _ gasped Crowley out, temporarily taken aback. “Oh, Aziraphale, angel.”

“I… I just wanted you to hear it, before I go.”

“No no no! Look, here, this is yours, see! That’s your ring, it’s for protection! See, you, you just take it and then you’ll stay. You won’t be going anywhere! See! Everything will be fine!”

Crowley struggled to get his fingers to behave properly, he fumbled with the small, icy cold metal piece before finally slipping it on Aziraphale’s finger.

The signet in its center pulsed briefly, one last time, then it grew dark again.

Even the magic of the bonding ring could do nothing more.

“Thank you, Crowley,” whispered Aziraphale. “Thank you, for letting me… die as myself. I’m glad I will not see the day my curse takes over. Thank you… my darling.”

_ “I love you.” _

And then his hand that had been caressing Crowley’s cheek fell limp. His once sparkling cerulean faceted eyes grew dull, unseeing.

“No, no, no, nO, NO, NO,  _ NO! Angel! Aziraphale! No! Please! Don’t go! Don’t leave me! Don’t go!  _ I love you! I love you too, my angel, my Aziraphale! Please! Please!  _ Come back!” _

“Please… come back…”

But of course, Aziraphale made no move. Crowley could almost feel the warmth leaving Aziraphale’s body, could almost see his soul leaving.

Crowley felt numb all over.

He heard someone screaming, an agonizing, aching, heartbroken scream.

His throat was raw, his eyes were ready to burst, tears were still streaking his face.

But still, he cradled Aziraphale’s head in his lap, gently stroking his soft, soft fur.

“Why, oh god, why, why now, why ever, it was all my fault. Please, he did nothing wrong, it was  _ all. My. Fault. _ Please, please, just take me, instead of him. Please, please, give him back… Please I’d give everything… I love him… I love him,” his voice less than even a whisper, overshadowed by the roaring of Aziraphale’s beloved home, still burning.

Crowley didn’t care, couldn’t care. Nothing made sense anymore, everything was gone, gone, gone.

He could still feel Aziraphale’s last heartbeats through the bonding ring, but they were rapidly fading.

“Please,” he whispered again, desperately burying his face in Aziraphale’s fur, taking in the still lingering scent of his one true love. “Please, give him back. Please, I love him.”

And then he kissed Aziraphale.

Felt the fading warmth beneath his lips, still hoping against all hope that he could transfer all his life energy to Aziraphale through this kiss.

But Aziraphale didn’t move a muscle.

Somewhere in the distance, Crowley could hear birds singing without a care in the world and somewhere further away, the bell of a church started ringing.

One chime for every second passed without his angel. Each chime in time with the last heartbeats still contained inside the bond.

“I love you,” whispered Crowley one last time and buried his face back into the fur on Aziraphale’s neck as he broke down.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -drops this and runs away, cackling evilly-  
> See you all tomorrow :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got even more art!!  
> lisadoodlebum left this beautiful piece in one of the comments on chapter 15: [here](https://twitter.com/lisadoodlebum/status/1225840005140172800?s=20)!

The villagers stood around in complete and utter silence as they witnessed the heartbreaking scene in front of them. No one dared to move a muscle, they even stopped in trying to contain the flames.

The fight had happened so quickly. Just a few seconds and it was over.

And now Crowley was mourning over his love.

Anathema almost couldn’t bear to look. Everyone could feel the raw emotions pouring off the man in waves.

Madame Tracy had gathered the children in her arms, pressing every single one of their faces into her skirt so that they couldn’t take in the pain around them.

For just one second, everything had felt so triumphant.

When Crowley had carried out Aziraphale, everyone had breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Anathema could see Crowley’s huge smile as he had introduced them.

They had celebrated too soon.

But who could have thought that it would all go so wrong so quickly?

Who could have predicted it?

Anathema was not Agnes.

She hadn’t had a single warning.

Now, she wished that she had.

Though she didn’t know how she would have acted if she had had a presentiment about the outcome of this day.

Maybe she would never have spoken to Crowley in that bar. Maybe she would have let him stay in his drunken stupor so that he could have missed it all.

Anathema didn’t know what was crueler.

It had never been her decision to make.

But now, she couldn’t change a thing, even if she desperately wanted to, just to relieve Crowley’s immeasurable pain.

No, they all couldn’t do anything, except for standing around, providing silent support that surely went unnoticed by Crowley.

Many people around her were crying, but Anathema couldn’t find her own tears. It felt as if it wasn’t her privilege to cry. She had barely known Aziraphale, let alone Crowley.

Even if she shared their pain, it was not her place to shed tears.

They all just stood in silence, watching the flames climb higher, the air around them drenched in smoke and ash.

“Guys,” whispered Adam suddenly from where he was still pressed into Madame Tracy’s lapels. “Guys, don’t you  _ feel  _ it?”

He struggled to free himself out of Madame Tracy’s concerned grip and then pointed towards an object on the floor beside the two lovers still locked in an embrace.

Only then, Anathema could feel it too. It was an almost unnoticeable shift in the atmosphere all around them. As if a tiny, cool breeze had suddenly started blowing.

Anathema’s gaze fell on the object Adam was pointing at.

It was Aziraphale’s sword, still lying exactly where it had been when it had slipped out of his limp grasp.

Only now, it was flaming again.

And its flames were  _ blue. _

There were strange symbols,  _ magic runes, _ on the blade, Anathema could only see them because they were glowing, but the strange blue flames consumed the symbols and they faded rapidly.

Anathema gasped softly.

She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she watched with rapt attention and slowly but surely raising  _ hope _ .

The blue flames climbed higher and higher until they reached the castle walls and suddenly the blue fire spread and spread and spread and in a matter of seconds the castle shined in a bright cerulean light and the heat was gone.

But that was not the only thing that happened.

By now, the flames had also reached the place where Aziraphale was still cradled in Crowley’s arms.

In barely a blink of an eye, Aziraphale’s body was engulfed in the same fire as his castle.

It was only then that Crowley noticed what was happening.

Surprised, he drew back, relinquishing his hold for just a moment.

But one moment was all it took.

Suddenly, Aziraphale’s body, still flaming, was levitating off the ground.

When Crowley realized that, he immediately fell into a panic, reaching for Aziraphale again, but he already was out of reach.

Crowley desperately scrambled to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“No, no, NO!” he shouted. “Don’t take him from me like this! You can’t! Please! Let me just hold him if you have taken him from me already! Don’t rob me of this last part of him too!”

But whatever force was at work clearly didn’t listen to Crowley’s pleas.

Instead, the fire burned brighter and brighter, higher and higher, until it engulfed everything in view and everyone had to avert their eyes to avoid being blinded. It lasted several moments.  


And then, in one last flash of brilliant white light, the light went out, bathing them in darkness again.

\---

Crowley didn’t avert his eyes when the fire that had taken his angel grew brighter.

He couldn’t avert them. He had to keep his eyes on his love, just in case that was the very last time he would ever see Aziraphale.

He had already stopped breathing what felt like ages ago, but if he hadn’t, his breath would have surely been stolen.

Because the light that was being emitted from Aziraphale himself, the cerulean flames all around them, that was magic.

He could feel it in his very soul, could feel it in the bonding ring still shining on Aziraphale’s finger.

Even if Aziraphale had never openly used his magic around Crowley, Crowley immediately recognized it. He would recognize that magic anywhere.

Aziraphale’s magic wrapped around Crowley like a blanket.

A duality,  _ like mine, _ Crowley realized with a start. And it was waking up.

He had to press his eyes closed to stop another wave of tears.

He felt as Aziraphale’s duality flared up again in the form of a thousand cerulean blue flames, wrapping around the whole castle and everyone around it until it settled in Crowley’s heart.

Right where it belonged.

Crowley opened his eyes again and watched, through all-seeing eyes,  _ Aziraphale’s eyes _ , as every single book rebuilt itself from their ashes with the help of the blue fire.

Watched as the destruction of the castle all but bled away.

Aziraphale’s magic grew with every book restored, rising from the ashes like a phoenix.

And then, Crowley returned to his own, singular point of view.

He watched as every single atom of Aziraphale’s body seemed to glow as it shifted.

And with a burst of light, four arms merged into two, claws split into five fingers on each hand, the fur quivered and receded until only a tuft of white-blond curly hair remained.

Aziraphale’s wings spread behind him and in a burst of shimmers, transformed into breathtakingly beautiful angel wings before folding up and being pulled into Aziraphale’s back. Glowing faceted eyes slipped closed.

Then the force of his magic lessened and lowered Aziraphale to the ground and into Crowley’s waiting arms again.

It took a few moments for the blue fire to recede and die down, though the sword stayed flaming through the whole process, now missing the strange symbols along its blade.

Crowley held his angel in his arms, he had no eyes for anything else.

Aziraphale’s eyes finally, finally,  _ finally, _ slid open and breathtakingly gorgeous cerulean blue met amber.

Only then, Crowley felt like he could breathe again.

He immediately recognized the man from the painting, the man from his  _ dreams _ . Immediately recognized his love’s eyes.

“Aziraphale,” he gasped, then cried, then laughed.

“Aziraphale,  _ angel _ , I love you!”

And suddenly, the world went round once more.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will follow shortly!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was such a romantic affair  
> And as we kissed and  
> Said goodnight  
> A nightingale sang in Berkeley square  
> I know 'cause I was there  
> That night in Berkeley square

**_Epilogue_ **

_Annotation of Agnes Nutter's Prophecies, found on the inside cover by Ms. Anathema Device a year after the events at the castle:_

_“Moth's fyrst Kiss shall be his Last_ _  
_ _Ande his second be the Fyrst_ _  
_ _Of alle the years that still_ _  
_ _Of their Lyves remaineth. …”_

Crowley felt itchy all over. Not because the suit didn’t fit him or because it was uncomfortable. No, it was more of a “not in the right body or form” type of feeling.

In short, Crowley was nervous and when he was nervous, his instincts screamed at him to shift into a snake and find a place to hide.

Crowley shook his head, he really shouldn’t _feel_ nervous; logically, he knew that.

Really, the difficult part - the part he should have been nervous about - that one was already behind him. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

He pulled on his cerulean blue tie for the hundredth time that hour. It didn’t stop feeling restrictive.

“Stop fussing, you! You’re gonna mess up your whole outfit!” scolded him Anathema.

“I can’t help it! Everything feels itchy!”

“No, it doesn’t! _You_ are just nervous!”

She was right, of course, but Crowley didn’t appreciate being called out like this.

“Am not,” he grumbled. Anathema ignored him.

“Just breathe deeply, everything will be alright! He agreed to it, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Crowley sighed and let his hands drop away from the tie.

“So, there is nothing to be nervous about! You will go out there and get your man! And everything will be _perfect_! No need to be so stressed out!”

“I know, I know. Doesn’t make it easier though.”

“Make what easier? Facing your future husband for your wedding? Don’t you want to see him?”

“I do! I do! It’s just… I never thought this day would ever happen. And now that I’m here… it doesn’t feel real. And it feels like I will do something to mess it up and then I will wake up and realize that it has all been a dream!”

“And does that sound logical to you?”

“No… it doesn’t,” whined Crowley.

“Now, there you have it. Just remember to breathe and everything will be fine. You look dashing by the way.”

Crowley wanted to hug her, she always knew when to change the topic before he could freak out, or, well, freak out more.

“Thanks, I hope he likes it too.”

“Oh, he will! Though I think the blue tie doesn’t fit that well with your hair.”

“It fits his eyes though, so it stays.”

Anathema rolled her eyes, though Crowley could see her smile in the mirror.

“Can you check my hair again, though,” he asked, warily eying the intricate construction she had whipped out half an hour ago.

“Your hair is fine, Crowley. It’s only been half an hour. Nothing has happened to it.”

Crowley forced himself not to fiddle with it.

“Look, I came to tell you that it will start soon. Not to fix your hair, _again._ You’ve got this, Crowley. You know that. This can’t be more difficult than facing down Hastur together, right?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I know. Have you seen Warlock yet?”

“He’s on his way. He had to get ready too, you know? He’ll get here in about five minutes, do you think you’ll be ready by then?”

Crowley knew she asked because of his nerves and not because of his outfit. She was right about that, the outfit and Crowley’s hair had been ready for half an hour already.

He nodded.

“Good, I’ll leave you to it then. I need to get back to my seat.”

Crowley nodded again.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

Then she disappeared again.

Crowley turned his focus back on his image in the mirror.

It had been two years since their fight with Hastur and one would think that that would have been the most difficult thing Crowley would ever have to do in his life.

Reality often looked different than what one thought.

Warlock arrived sooner than Crowley had expected him. He was dressed smartly in a tiny black suit and a tiny bow tie. 

When Crowley had first seen the outfit, he had cooed over how cute it looked, earning him a glare from Warlock. Now, Crowley’s nerves were spun too tight to do more than smile at Warlock wanly.

The significance of this event was underlined by the fact that Warlock smiled back.

Warlock held out his hand and Crowley took it, letting himself be guided towards a familiar door.

In the course of the last two years, they had expanded the hallway leading to Eden when they rebuilt the greenhouse after its walls had been torn down to extinguish the castle fire. After all, not everyone had the convenience to be able to shift into a snake to avoid having to crouch the entire way long.

So now, Warlock and he strode through the hallway tall and proud, even though Crowley was still nervous, and would still like to drop down into his snake form and wait for all of the events to pass.

When they reached the doors to the greenhouse, Crowley’s steps faltered and came to a halt.

“Uncle Zira is waiting, you know,” said Warlock giving Crowley’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “He’s just behind that door. And he’s just as nervous as you are. So don’t chicken out now.”

“I won’t,” Crowley whispered. “Thank you, kid.”

Then, they opened the doors together.

When Warlock and he had strode through the doors into Eden, Aziraphale had indeed been waiting for them, for _him._

Aziraphale was dressed in a form-fitting black suit and a beautiful burgundy tie.

His beautiful, cerulean eyes lit up when he spotted Crowley in his pristine white suit and blue tie.

Aziraphale had been led into the room by Adam and now both kids let go of their hands so Crowley could take Aziraphale’s.

Afterwards, most of the happenings were a blur to Crowley.

They had walked the way to the makeshift altar hand in hand, Crowley holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Eden itself.

They sat on chairs in front of all their friends facing the priest; the whole village of Tadfield was in attendance.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet, but Crowley couldn’t remember most of it. His attention was solely focussed on Aziraphale and something told him, the other was in the same situation.

Crowley couldn’t stop smiling, even when he shed a few tears as well.

Anathema had been right, it was perfect.

He barely recalled saying “I do” and hearing the sentiment echoed from Aziraphale and then they were kissing. It had taken some getting used to, that Aziraphale was now smaller than Crowley, but after two years, Crowley was familiar with the feeling of leaning down to kiss his angel.

But now, Aziraphale, his angel, his _husband_ , was kissing Crowley.

And maybe Crowley cried again.

After the ceremony held in Eden, they all migrated to the Great Witchhunter’s tavern.

Originally the plan had been to hold the festivities inside the castle but Crowley had wanted the castle to be just theirs for a few days again and besides, in the tavern, access to food and drinks was easier for everyone.

So, all the guests gathered in the tavern and the festivities went on well into the night, with lots of food and drinks, a few games and lots of laughter, music, and fun.

But after the party, Crowley wanted to do nothing more than to be alone with his _husband_.

And apparently Anathema was a mind reader because she found him and told him that they could go and she would handle the guests and the cleanup and stuff.

Aziraphale had smiled at that, thanked Anathema and then led Crowley outside.

Together, they had brought out their wings and had flown back to the castle, to their home, Crowley using his raven’s human-sized wings and Aziraphale using the creamy-white angel wings he had gotten after the curse had been broken.

It had been a surprise for both of them when they had figured out that Aziraphale could bring out his feathery wings at will.

“Well, I don’t think Gabriel had intended that little feature when he imagined the curse breaking,” Aziraphale had joked.

“I don’t think Gabriel had intended True Love’s Kiss to break the curse either,” Crowley had answered.

He had been furious when Aziraphale had told him how the curse came to existence. Crowley had seen the events leading up to it in his shared dreams with Aziraphale - a fact that Aziraphale still marveled about since he hadn’t known they had shared dreams at the time - but hearing Aziraphale telling his tale never failed to make Crowley’s blood boil.

Aziraphale had done nothing to deserve being cursed, he had only had the knowledge to acquire a duality from his spellbooks, a magic from books that the Order, and more importantly, Gabriel, couldn’t let slide. It threatened their entire belief of God-given powers and how everyone else was beneath them. Seeing Aziraphale _learn_ a whole new form of magic from peasant books hadn’t boded well with them and they had let Gabriel curse Aziraphale.

And even that had not been enough; Gabriel had to put magic runes on Aziraphale’s flaming sword to suppress Aziraphale’s duality because otherwise, the curse would never have taken. That was just how powerful Crowley’s husband was.

Crowley had been very smug when Aziraphale had told him about his last encounter with Gabriel and how he had burned Gabriel’s tie clean off his neck, and with the flaming sword that held the key to his duality no less.

Despite Crowley’s words, it wasn’t the kiss that had broken Aziraphale’s curse. Well, the kiss was the cause, not the reason. Crowley’s kiss coupled together with the bonding ring responding to their requited love confessions had sparked Aziraphale’s duality deep within. The magic had taken a few moments to flare up enough to combat the block Gabriel had put on it, but once it had, Aziraphale’s duality had restored itself to its full power, complete with restoring all the books that were its basis from the ashes.

The flaring magic had all but destroyed Gabriel’s curse and transformed Aziraphale back to human, which saved him from his wounds as well.

It had all been rather miraculous.

Ineffable, if you will.

\---

The castle was quiet when they reached it. After all the noise of the day, it seemed even more blissfully so.

They entered the main room in silence together, hand in hand.

Then, Aziraphale made to start a fire in the fireplace and Crowley set up the record player.

The atmosphere was quiet and serene. Peaceful.

The music filled the room like a warm blanket on a winter night.

Aziraphale stood up from the fireplace and smiled at Crowley. His breathtaking eyes shining from the fire’s light.

“May I have this dance,” Crowley asked softly, reminiscent of the last time they had danced together, right before the circumstances had forced them apart.

Aziraphale had apologized for his cruel words from that day almost every day for the first year after the curse had broken even though Crowley had assured him that he had already forgiven him the very same day.

Aziraphale had told him how Gabriel had warned him of Hastur’s imminent arrival. How he had tried to stifle the bonding ring’s magic to keep Hastur from finding them but how it had already been too late. Crowley had been angry when Aziraphale had told him he had sent him away in an attempt to keep him safe from Hastur, but in the end, he had to concede that if he had been in Aziraphale’s shoes he would have done the same thing.

Still, Aziraphale apologized for his words, the only words he was able to think of to make Crowley leave and hopefully never return.

And Crowley told Aziraphale every time that he forgave him, and explained how it wasn’t Aziraphale’s words that made him leave but the rejection of the bonding ring. What a bonding ring was to a shifter and what the rejection meant in turn.

It had made Aziraphale apologize even more, but Crowley could deal with that.

This time around, they hadn’t wanted to have any secrets between them.

So, Crowley told Aziraphale what Gabriel had meant by calling him a murderer. He told Aziraphale of the young couple that had somehow found out about a few critical secrets of his old pack. Crowley didn’t know what they had found out or why. He had only been given an assignment from Beelzebub, coming directly from his pack’s leader Lucifer. The assignment had been to kill Adam and Eve before they could spill the pack’s secrets. Crowley hadn’t been able to do it, he couldn’t kill an innocent couple simply for knowing too much. Instead, he had let them go and when Hastur and Ligur came after him for betraying the pack, he had killed Ligur in an accident. Afterwards, he had run and Hastur had been after him for vengeance.

Crowley was glad that even with no secrets between them, Aziraphale still loved him. Still wanted to marry him.

“Of course, my dear Crowley,” Aziraphale said and took Crowley’s offered hand and this time, his eyes were smiling.

They danced around the room, this time without Crowley stepping on Aziraphale’s feet every few seconds, ensnared by the music all around them.

They danced, spinning around the room, lost in each other’s eyes, until the flames in the fireplace went almost out and the songs had stopped playing.

Afterwards, they had reignited the fire and made themselves comfortable on their couch.

But Crowley stopped Aziraphale before he could reach for the book they had been reading. Instead, he took Aziraphale’s hand into his own.

He traced the bonding ring, now sitting on Aziraphale’s ring finger, twinkling slightly.

“Can I do something?” he asked. “I wanted to do it earlier, but I wanted it to be more private, the ceremony was no place for it.”

“Of course, my dear,” said Aziraphale with unwavering trust.

When they had exchanged wedding rings, Aziraphale had insisted on having Crowley’s bonding ring be his wedding ring, so Crowley had only been allowed to carve in an “Angel” as the inscription.

Crowley himself had a simple silver band with the inscription “My dearest”. Aziraphale had lamented about the fact that it didn’t hold the same significance as a bonding ring even though he had enchanted it with his own duality as well, but Crowley thought it was perfect.

Still, there had been one thing left that Crowley wanted to change about the bonding ring.

He turned the ring on Aziraphale’s finger and let his magic flow. The scale and feather embedded in its base responded immediately and the golden band started glowing softly, intricate lines showing on its surface.

When the glowing stopped, Crowley could feel the bond much stronger and he could taste the magic in the air.

“You got rid of the block I put on its magic,” Aziraphale gasped. “I can feel its power again!”

“Now that you accepted it properly, it’s a mating bond,” Crowley said softly. “We can feel each other through the ring. I just restored it to what it was before… everything happened.”

“What about your pack? Won’t they find you again through the ring? Gabriel said it was a beacon that led them, led Hastur, to your location.”

“My pack doesn’t care about me anymore. I failed the assignment, I was cast out. Hastur only came after me because of Ligur.”

“Don’t they fear you will spill their secrets?”

“I was never that important, Aziraphale. The assignment I failed was the most I’d ever had to do for the pack. Losing me did nothing in their grand scheme of things. I was quite unimportant actually. They will not bother me again.”

“Alright, I trust you, my dear. I mean, Gabriel and the Order ignore my existence too, now that I proved to be too much of a liability to them. They will tell the new recruits stories about my failure but that will be the only thing my absence has impacted.”

“We don’t need them, angel. We have us. Our own side.”

“Our own side. I like the sound of that, husband mine,” Aziraphale grinned at him and Crowley lost himself in Aziraphale’s cerulean eyes even as he felt his ears heat up at the name.

Then they kissed again and Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s love in every single pore of his body.

He melted into the kiss and tangled his hands in Aziraphale’s fluffy white-blond hair, so soft beneath his fingers. Aziraphale’s arms sneaked around his waist and Crowley stopped breathing.

Every kiss was breathtaking like that. Crowley marveled at it every time. When they parted, both of them were flushed pink and out of breath.

Aziraphale smiled at him, a beautiful, breathtaking smile and Crowley returned it.

Then, Aziraphale grabbed the book they had been reading the past few days and started reading, his voice soft and melodic and warm and loving.

Curled together in front of the fireplace on their couch in their home, twin bands twinkling on their fingers - Crowley could not think of any better place to be.

 _“… Thus, as Love restoreth_ _  
_ _Shall they forge theyr Bond anew_  
_Ande lyve out all theyr days_  
_Inne Happeyness;_

_Theyr Kisses too maney to count.”_

**_The End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Agnes Nutter speak, again with a huge Thanks to my story coach Wy, who made these prophecies possible:
> 
> "Moth's first kiss shall be his Last  
> And his second shall be the First  
> In all the years that still  
> Remain of their Lives. ...
> 
> ... Thus, when love restores  
> They shall forge their Bond anew  
> And live out all their days  
> In Happiness;  
> Their Kisses too many to count."
> 
> I cannot believe it is already over!  
> I hope you liked it!  
> THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR SUCH AN AMAZING RIDE!!  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND STICKING WITH ME ALL THIS TIME!  
> THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS GOOD OMENS BIG BANG AN AMAZING EXPERIENCE!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed it, please leave kudos or a comment! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a helping hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620916) by [spickerzocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spickerzocker/pseuds/spickerzocker)




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